Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice
by jyorraku
Summary: Co-written by Chrysa. Is that a phase pistol or is Malcolm just happy to see Hoshi? Finished
1. Part I

Title: Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice  
Author: Chrysa, Jyorraku  
Rating: PG-13  
Category: Humor, Romance  
Codes: R/S  
Summary: On with the kissage!  
Declaration: MARA IS A BETA GODDESS.   
Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice  
  
Part I: Hoshi  
  
It all started out so innocently.   
  
Of course, all things start out innocently, a la the road to hell is paved with good intentions, unless you've got a very nefarious intention to begin with, but that's neither here nor there.   
  
All right, it all started on that mission to Merysa, your typical Minshara-class prewarp civilization. Captain Archer went into his "Ohh, Shiny!" mode and it was decided, albeit over Sub-Commander T'Pol's laconic eyebrow-raising protests, that we would go undercover to gather some information.  
  
I wish it had ended there with plastic alien appendages and impending skin rashes. I should have known from the beginning that it wasn't going your typical mission, when I saw the costume I had to wear. Let's just say it didn't leave very much to the imagination. But I didn't see my teammates--consisting of Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed--react oddly to my alien getup. I didn't know whether to be glad that they were being professionals or upset that I didn't even get a double take in my skimpy little outfit. So I didn't have a figure that made women hate me and men love me at first sight, but I've still got a little vanity. It wouldn't have hurt to see the finest in Starfleet admiring my assets for a second or two, you know?   
  
Once again, I learned that platitudes get to be platitudes because they're true most of the time. "Be careful what you wish for!" Indeed. As we returned from the surface, the shuttle ran into some turbulence. My seatbelt, which by my own admission wasn't securely fashioned, came apart. I flipped out of my seat...and fell right into Malcolm's lap. He had the good grace to wrap his arms around me to keep me from being injured, despite my rather rough landing on him. The shuttlepod rocked about the Merysian atmosphere as my scantily-clad self rocked about Malcolm Reed's decidedly toned body.   
  
When we were finally out of the bad air pocket, Captain Archer gave us the all-clear.  
  
Yes, Hoshi dear, get off the nice man's lap now. I turned my head up and around to give him a smile of gratitude, just as he leaned down, to see if I was okay, I suppose. There was such perfect coordination that I was glad Captain Archer kept his eyes on the viewscreen instead of looking back at us, otherwise I couldn't have explained myself or Malcolm.  
  
The unexplainable result of the aforementioned synchrony was his lips brushing against mine, a faint feathery touch that had him jerking his head away in surprise. The intimate, though accidental, contact of lips, along with the eventual stillness of the shuttlepod, made me realize that it wasn't the arm of the chair or the buckle of the seatbelt that made my current seating situation . . . bumpy.  
  
I don't know what possessed me to say what I said next. Perhaps, like my brothers said, I do have a mean streak beneath my seemingly innocent goodie-goodie exterior. Whatever it was, the words took a one-way trip out of my mouth, laughing all the way.  
  
"My, I didn't know they made phase pistols this large," I blurted out, instantly astounded, and a smidgen proud, of my own audacity. However, I was unaware that Malcolm's face, or anyone's face for that matter, could turn so red, so quickly. He opened his mouth, to offer a smart retort in his defense, I'm almost certain of it, but couldn't find the words as I moved to extricate myself from his arms. I was so wickedly amused that I belatedly discovered that sometime during the turbulence, the string holding my little top together had snapped and the only thing keeping the thin cloth from falling was Malcolm's chest.  
  
"Perhaps you should return to your seat now," he growled impatiently when he realized I had no intention of getting up, oblivious to my dilemma.  
  
"I can't," I whispered, feeling heat crawling up my neck. Oh, how I hate instant karma.  
  
He looked pained. "Why the bloody hell not?!"  
  
"Because you're the only thing keeping my bloody top from falling off!" I shot back.  
  
He automatically glanced down at the proximity of my chest.  
  
"Hey!" I pinched his arm. "Don't look!" I exclaimed, hopefully sounding sufficiently outraged.  
  
If he was red before, he was blushing tomato now. Was it with the embarrassment that he did something so completely male? Or just about our current situation in general? I wasn't sure. And as if it couldn't get much worse . . .   
  
"You two okay?" Captain Archer stuck his head back at us, his brows drawn in a familiar furrow.  
  
Malcolm closed his eyes for a brief second, possibly wishing for some sort of divine intervention. My top, however, short of that miracle Malcolm was praying for, wasn't going to automatically return itself into an upright position.  
  
"Fine, sir," I called to Captain Archer before turning back to face Malcolm, just opening his eyes. My lips twitched and I felt a semi-hysterical giggle bubbling in my chest as I realized that he probably didn't see this coming when he signed up to be the armory officer of the Enterprise. "Never better," I added, my voice cracking as I stared into his mortified eyes.  
  
Said eyes narrowed at me, obviously peeved that I was having fun at his expense. Oh oh. Not a good idea to have the guy with the trigger-happy finger mad at you, Hoshi.  
  
"Just hold still for a minute, okay?" I whispered, reaching for the multitude of strings and trying to retie them behind my back. It could have ended right there. It should have. I don't know whom I pissed off in my past life but he or she was really going for the all or nothing on the payback scale.   
  
"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" I squeaked as a cramp decided to make itself known by setting my shoulder on fire. This really impeded me from tying my top back on. It also made Malcolm frown so hard that for a second there I thought his forehead was in danger of caving in.  
  
"What? What is it now?" he wheezed. As if this was all my doing. Yes, muscle cramps and me, we're like this, they show themselves every so often and I put out the good china.  
  
"A cramp in my shoulder. I can't move my arm," I explained with the growing realization that if I couldn't move my arm, there was really only one way to get around this situation.  
  
"You can't move your arm," he repeated slowly back to me, perhaps thinking that if he said it again, slowly, my muscles would realize their grievous error and return to a state that would enable me to go back to the task at hand. Right.   
  
Must. Not. Roll. My. Eyes.  
  
"Look, just reach down for a couple of those string thingies and tie them together. It's not that hard!"  
  
He made an effort to breath through his nose, and failed rather miserably. "It wouldn't be hard at all if you'd worn something that wasn't so lacking in structural integrity!"  
  
Okay, you know, he really fell into that one through no fault of my own. I wasn't even trying to go there. In fact, after my initial crack, I was dutifully ignoring my bumpy seating arrangement. But after that comment, who could blame me? Who indeed?   
  
A giggle forced itself through my staunchly pursed lips. Malcolm, after the initial mental constipation, realized the double entendre of his words and choked, his face going up in glorious flames.  
  
I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe it was cramped space in the shuttle, or the fact that the unflappable Malcolm Reed was clearly . . . flapped. But I was really enjoying this. Maybe too much.  
  
After taking several deep chest-heaving breaths, a resolute Malcolm clenched his jaw and appeared to prepare for the task ahead. You would have thought fixing my clothing was right up there with cruel and unusual punishment. Yet all the words went the way of the pigeons when his calloused fingers started probing hesitantly against my bare skin. I shivered despite myself. As I said, I was obviously enjoying myself way too much.  
  
And as he peered over my shoulder to see what he was doing, I, in turn, with nothing else better to do but wait, became mesmerized by the texture of his neck, that part where his hairline faded into skin. I had an almost irresistible urge to touch it, to confirm that it was as smooth and taut as it looked. However, at that moment, my arms were trapped against my sides and somehow I doubted a sudden movement would go across very well with him. So I did the next best thing, or what I thought was the next best thing. The perversity of my mind is still a mystery to me today. Looking back on it, it probably wasn't a very smart thing to do. In fact, it was something like observing a train wreck. I had an out-of-body experience and watched myself from afar, eyes peeking through fingers that were already in that oh-shit-here-it-comes position.   
  
I leaned in closer, breathing open-mouthed against the patch of skin, watching with morbid fascination as the little hairs rose at attention. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt his fingers behind me jerk into an abrupt stop as his body went tense. Yeah, if I could have foreseen what I was about to do, I would have braced myself too.  
  
I, Ensign Hoshi Sato, Communications Officer, Ex-Exo-Linguistics Professor, proud daughter of Miyu and Ryuuji Sato, licked Malcolm Reed's neck. 


	2. Part II

* * * * *   
  
Part II: Hoshi Again  
  
What started as a simple, albeit slightly awkward, "zip this up for me, will ya?" situation was now reclassified as the most embarrassing moment of my life. God, you think that birthday fiasco was embarrassing? No, this one was so far off the scales that it made all the other moments run screaming into their mother's arms.   
  
I stared in absolute horror at the spot on Malcolm's neck. The spot I had licked. The spot that now glistened happily at me. If it had been a living thing I would have killed it right there. Out damned spot! Out I say! Still it winked happily in the shuttlepod lights. I ran my tongue over my teeth. Wonder if it'd be so happy if I bit it?  
  
No. Wait.  
  
Obviously I was losing my mind if I thought biting Malcolm's neck was going to make this better.   
  
Unless I was a vampire. In which case this whole incident would make a lot of sense. You see, Malcolm, your neck looked so good I just had to lick it. An appetizer to the main course, if you will.  
  
Whimper.  
  
Dear God, I needed help. The kind that involved padded walls.  
  
"You're done," Malcolm finally managed to croak out after my mental relapse, speaking of the wayward top that was the cause of this descent into the Let's-Never-Speak-Of-This-Ever-Again land. Okay, not quite the godsend I was looking for but good enough. Get me out of here.   
  
Leaping away from him like a hot potato from an unsuspecting hand, it was a moment before I could understand why he was gawking at me, or rather, at my chest. It was bare.   
  
My barely-there confection of a top decided to hang on to Malcolm's finger instead of staying on my chest. Traitor.  
  
"JESUS BLOODY MOTHER OF--" All kinds of profanity, words I didn't know Malcolm was capable of saying much less knowing, shot out of his mouth as he jumped at me. His arms wound tightly around me, his upper-body covering my semi-nude state as the litany of curses continued.  
  
I stood dumbly in his embrace, feeling his shoulders shake with each word. People these days don't have aneurysms anymore. Of course, I wasn't certain whether to tell Malcolm that, since his heart was palpitating so fast, his head was close to exploding. Among other things.  
  
"What on earth are you two doing?" came a voice behind my back.  
  
Since Captain Archer was neither deaf, blind, nor dumb--on most days anyway, as can be said for all men--there was no way in hell we were going to keep this situation contained. Not with my top on Malcolm's finger and Malcolm on top of me. Malcolm's cursing didn't help either.  
  
"Hugging?" I supplied lamely. I couldn't see what Captain Archer's reaction was, but I doubt he believed me. Heck, I wouldn't have believed me.  
  
"Her..." Malcolm paused, "shirt..." (for lack of a better word, I'm sure), "fell off, sir."   
  
Pause for incredulousness on Captain Archer's part.   
  
"On your finger?" I couldn't see Captain Archer's face, but he was so not buying it. Damn it, he didn't have to sound so amused.  
  
Malcolm made a gurgling noise. Good to know I was capable of making men regress to their infant states.  
  
"He was just trying to put it back on, Captain," I said, sighing.  
  
"Right." Silence. Cute, that was real cute. He thought he was being quiet about his laughing, but he'd obviously forgotten who he was talking to. Or maybe he hadn't. Damn the man! "Okay then, carry on."  
  
Oh, he'll get his one day. I'm sure of it. Cross that, I'll make sure of it. Malcolm wasn't too happy either. I could actually hear his teeth grinding next to my ear. But why is it I couldn't resist the silly loopy grin on my face? The kind that you can actually feel stretching across your face? The kind that, the kind that, with accompanying horns and a pointed tail, would most likely scare children and those weak of heart?  
  
"You could have just turned around and handed me a blanket, you know." Hee hee.  
  
He froze. I angled my head away from him, an ill-conceived attempt to cover my grin. Too late.  
  
Groaning, he released me, keeping his eyes away from my general direction before reaching into the compartment behind him for a blanket. "Why do you have to be so...so..." he muttered under his breath.  
  
"Fluent?"  
  
"Exasperating!"  
  
"Oh, so I get a rise out of you, do I?" Ohh, that was a good one. Bad Hoshi, bad!  
  
He keeled over at that comment. Ah, the force of my personality overwhelmed him.  
  
Waving that blanket like a proverbial white flag, he kept his line of sight confined to the back of the shuttlepod.  
  
I carefully wrapped the blanket around my chest. No way this sucker was falling off.  
  
"So...are you planning to keep my top as a souvenir?" Perfectly reasonable question, don't you think? I certainly thought so.   
  
It must have been too much for him, though. He looked from me, wearing almost nothing but a blanket, to my itsy bitsy, teeny weenie top then back again in complete confusion.   
  
You know I always did wonder if it was true what they said about men not having enough blood to operate both, no we won't go there. But I have always wondered.  
  
After another double take his brain finally connected the question to the article of clothing on his finger. Another round of amazing expletives erupted from Malcolm's mouth as he pointed his finger at me.   
  
"If you two are done...doing whatever it is you're doing back there, the shuttle's docked," Captain Archer's amused voice called from the ladder.   
  
Rat bastard. I will have my revenge, I swear on all the dead goldfish my brother had growing up. With as much dignity as one could have wearing almost nothing but a blanket, I snatched up my bikini top and stalked over to the ladder. Double-checking to make sure my blanket was secure--yeah, the last thing I needed was a repeat performance for Trip and anyone else in the shuttle bay--I started to climb.  
  
Another explosive round of swearing from below me told me that Malcolm had attempted to climb and then ended up looking up my blanket.   
  
A smirk lifted my lips. Well, it was late but I got a reaction to my clothing.  
  
I, Hoshi Sato, am so bad. I rock!  
* * * * *  
  
TBC 


	3. Part III

*****  
  
Part III: Malcolm  
  
She'll be the death of me one of these days. They'll put it on my autopsy. Cause of death: Hoshi Sato.   
  
Knew she was going to be trouble from day one. You know the saying 'It's always the quiet ones'? That goes double for small, quiet, innocent-looking women. They always find a way to clobber you.  
  
I should know. My sister's done it to me all my life and I still underestimate her. She once told me it was the cuteness factor. You never equate cuteness with the ability to wreak havoc on unsuspecting people.  
  
Clang. Clang. Clang.  
  
What the hell was that? That sound? That was my head banging on the metal ladder in resignation.   
  
It was quite soothing, actually.   
  
The sound of Trip's southern drawl caught my attention. Please don't be on the ladder still...  
  
Oh, there is a god, I thought. She's not on the ladder. Maybe I could run up and get out of the shuttle bay without totally humiliating myself again. I reached the top of the ladder, just as Trip looked at Hoshi in utter confusion. Captain Archer just stood there with a hand over his mouth, eyes bouncing back and forth between Hoshi and I.  
  
Do they court-martial you if it's justifiable homicide?  
  
"Hey, Hoshi. Was...the...mission...okay?" Trip gave Hoshi's get-up the once over.   
  
It didn't bother me. Really, it didn't.  
  
Where's the reset button when you need it? It would have helped to start the day over.  
  
"It was more exciting for some than others." She stuck her pert nose in the air and gave me a pointed look before stalking off, leaving me to deal with the inevitable fallout.  
  
"So, Malcolm..."  
  
Here it comes...  
  
"Did you two have fun on the shuttle ride?" Trip gave me the wink wink, nudge nudge and suggestive eyebrow waggle of a man who thinks he's being funny...  
  
And failing miserably.  
  
Must. Not. Shove. Phase. Pistol. Up. Ass.  
  
But it was tempting. So very, very tempting.  
  
In the end, even though my face felt like it was on fire, I managed to to overcome my homicidal impulses and replied, "It was a very bumpy ride." Ignoring Trip's widening eyes I escaped to the turbolift.   
  
Not before Captain Archer let out a bark of laughter, however.  
  
At a court-martial I'd get off scot-free.  
  
Once in the turbolift I gratefully sagged against a wall and ran my mind through the insane events of the day. When I got to the Hoshi minus bikini top part, I shuddered. Except it wasn't one of those Oh-good-Lord-I-saw-my-grandmother-naked types of shudders.   
  
The 'Hoshi is my sister' concept of thinking that I had adopted at the beginning of this mission had sung, packed its bags and left the building.   
  
I didn't know she could be such a bad girl.  
  
I was in so much trouble...because underneath this uptight exterior, there's a bad boy that wants out.   
***** 


	4. Part IV

Part IV: Hoshi  
  
I kept thinking, 'It's not morning. It's not morning. It's not morning.'  
  
It was morning.  
  
Crap.  
  
Normally, I'm a "Get up! Let's go!" morning person but after the...bikini incident, I really wanted to stay in bed. Completely covered. Possibly forever.   
  
Not so brave today, huh, Hoshi? Okay, maybe not. Everything looks different when you've regained your mental capacities. At least it was my day off. I could stay in my quarters all day...  
  
And if I were on a starvation kind of diet, the plan would have worked. Then I looked at the time. Hmm, maybe I could run in, grab something and run back. It's a good thing I have three brothers. I've honed that five-minute-change-and-dash skill. Five minutes and thirty seconds later I was on my way to the mess hall.  
  
Only to discover Chef had made pancakes and there was the line from hell waiting for them.   
  
Of course Malcolm was at the end.  
  
The Fates were conspiring against me.  
  
Before I could turn tail and run screaming like a madwoman from the room, another group of hungry people pushed me into place behind him.  
  
Guess who was right in back of me.  
  
Trip.  
  
Double Crap.  
  
"Hey, Hoshi!"  
  
I repeated my mantra: 'Don't say his name. Don't say his name. Don't say his name.'  
  
"Malcolm!"  
  
He said his name. That's it, he's off my Christmas list.  
  
The compact Brit in front of me stiffened for a moment like a deer caught in the headlights of an 18-wheeler before turning. "Commander, Ens--" He stopped to take in my clothing.  
  
What the hell was I wearing anyway? That was the only problem with five-minute-change-and-run. Unless you've planned out what you're wearing any combination is possible...  
  
Like a tank top and a skirt with a slit up to my thigh...Oh my God...  
  
Waitaminute. Why was I embarrassed? He was the one checking out my legs.   
  
Hoshi. My name is Hoshi and my legs are not on the menu.  
  
Perhaps snarkiness at seven a.m. is not a good idea. So I cleared my throat.  
  
His eyes soared back up to meet mine. Yes, my eyes are up here. Good boy! The man can blush at the drop of a hat. What a rush.  
  
Power is an awesome thing.  
  
"Morning, Malcolm." I shifted a little to the right and showed a little more leg...then watched his eyes start to move down again before he realized what he was doing. Maybe venturing outside wasn't a bad idea after all.  
  
"Good--ahem," Frog in your throat, Malcolm? Heh. "Morning, Hoshi."   
  
"Fancy meeting y'all here," Trip said, eyes twitching in such a bizarre manner that I wanted to ask him when was the last time he had a checkup with Phlox.  
  
But from the corner of my eye I could see Malcolm's cheek twitching in a similar manner. For a brief moment I considered the possibility that these strange muscle spasms were contagious.  
  
Then it hit me. Slow of me, yes, but give me a break, it was seven in the morning! I don't process things quickly without that first cup of coffee.  
  
I got it. It was guy talk...the talking that guys do--without actually talking.  
  
Now, I know I did a disservice to my profession by not investigating this novel form of communication, but hello...stomach...growling...hungry. Do not stand in the way of non-grammatical Hoshi!  
  
"Malcolm...the line," I said, pointing behind him. No, that didn't qualify as a whine, no matter how high pitched it was. Unfortunately, Malcolm and Trip were still "communicating", the former paying no attention to the progressing line or me.  
  
"MALCOLM!" I nearly yelled, jumping in place, trying to get his attention.   
  
Oh, I got his attention all right.  
  
Yet another byproduct of getting dressed in five minutes.  
  
No bra.  
  
My God, they're just breasts, you'd think by the way he gaped at them that they were made of gold.  
  
I think all his blood did go south because the next thing I knew, his had tray clattered to the floor.  
  
How could I not have seen this a mile away?  
  
I blame it on the lack of coffee.  
  
I bent down to retrieve his tray, just as he snapped out of his stupor.  
  
Yes, yes, our heads knocked, hands touched. Dear God, when was all this going to end?!  
  
Apparently, never, because the next thing I knew, Trip, who had turned around to talk to Liz Cutler, started walking, or rather TRYING to walk--right over me! Did they not teach him to walk and talk and WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU'RE GOING at the Academy?   
  
Malcolm, recovering from the loss of blood by the evidence of his blush, looked up and yelled out a warning, "Trip!"  
  
"Ack!" I could feel him starting to topple over me, but Liz, good old Liz, grabbed Trip back before he could fall over. Unfortunately, in a fit of deja vu, the momentum of Trip's weight caused me to fall right on top of Malcolm.  
  
Who dropped his tray and grabbed me around the waist as we fell. I, scrambling for something to hold onto, managed to wrap one arm around his shoulders and used the other to attempt to break our descent. Full body contact from chest to hips to--Good Morning! I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something about phase pistols. It would have been bad form, considering he kept my head from hitting the floor with his lips!  
  
You didn't seriously think we'd escape full body contact without ending up in a lip lock did you? Of course not, fate wouldn't be that kind. It was a glancing kiss, kind of a 'Happy New Year' meets 'Christmas mistletoe' kiss but more on the completely unexpected side. However, before I had a chance to either analyze it or wish for a large hole to open up in the floor and swallow me whole, we bumped into the people standing in front of us.   
  
I used to be fascinated by the falling of dominoes. I've been to domino competitions. People spend countless hours carefully setting them up to make elaborate pictures like the Mona Lisa or building skyscrapers and bridges. Hours of work and it would only take a minute to knock them all down. It's fascinating to watch.  
  
It took ten minutes for the mess hall line to form that morning.   
  
It took thirty seconds for everyone who'd been in front of Malcolm to fall over.  
  
You never realize how many people are multilingual until they start swearing in every language they know. After the initial confusion everyone sat stunned. The people in line behind Trip stared at all of us in a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Breathing heavily. Malcolm and I looked at each other. I bit my lip looking for something, anything to say.   
  
"Must have been one helluva shuttle ride yesterday." Smug sonofa--  
  
I swore at that moment they'd never find Trip's body or the smirk on his face. I'd bury that separately. A soft growl told me Malcolm was probably thinking along the same lines. Well, his lines might just be more violent than mine. I wondered if he'd let me watch him take Trip down. An evil, mischievous look entered his eyes and before anyone could say...anything actually, he hooked a foot around one of Trip's ankles and pulled.   
  
"AACK!" Trip lost his balance in a spectacular view of flailing limbs and curses trying to grab onto Liz for balance. He pulled too hard and took her--and consequently the back half of the line--down with him.   
  
Maybe I'll keep Malcolm on my Christmas list.  
  
"Good mor--" Just when I'd figured it couldn't get any worse Captain Archer walked in on his way to breakfast. You could almost hear his jaw hit the floor as he looked from one end of the line to the other. Must have been a hell of a sight, me practically lounging on Malcolm's body, his arms wrapped around me, and half the crew sitting on the floor dazed. "Do I want to know?"  
  
We merely shook our heads.  
  
He nodded slowly. "Okay, then." Pretending as if nothing out of the ordinary was occurring, Archer turned and walked into his dining room.   
  
Malcolm cleared his throat.   
  
"You know you really should see Phlox about that throat."  
  
"Perhaps when we get off the floor."  
  
The floor...oh yeah...full body contact...Oops.   
  
"Don't even think about phase pistols, Hoshi."  
  
I looked from his face down to his arms still locked about my waist. With an evil little smile I leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "But, I'm not the one who's got it locked, loaded and ready to go, Malcolm."   
  
Leaving him with that swirling in his mind and another blush I rolled off him and rose. I got my breakfast and walked out the door with a well-deserved smirk on my face.  
  
Hoshi: 2, Malcolm: 0  
  
Damn I'm good. Even without coffee.  
*****  
  
TBC 


	5. Part V

Part V: Malcolm  
  
I will never look at a phase pistol the same way again. Damn her!  
  
I tried not to look as she sashayed herself out of the mess hall, hips swinging, legs strutting. It was hard--that is as in DIFFICULT--not to stare when there was so much to stare at. So many stare-able things. Oh dear Lord, have mercy...bouncy things.   
  
"Goooolly, Malcolm. I've never seen ya so red before," Trip said with that irritating smirk on his face as he sat his tray down in front of my table.  
  
One of these days. One of these days.  
  
"Must have been some ride, Lieutenant," he said with a toothy grin.  
  
One of the things about being an armory officer, you learn things that other people don't even realize can be learned. Such as how to strangle a man without actually killing him. I refrained myself from cracking my knuckles. Somehow I doubt Captain Archer would like it very much if I attacked his chief engineer in the mess hall.   
  
It would be bad for crew morale.  
  
I glared at him and got up to leave.  
  
"Leaving so soon? Oh, that's right, it's Hoshi's day off." The man laughed and patted me on the back, making me wonder if he really needed both arms to maintain the warp engine.  
  
"I'm going to the armory," I growled, "I work there, remember?"  
  
Trip nodded agreeably before leaning over to whisper, "And no one's going to know if you just happen to drop by a certain off-duty communications officer's cabin on your way there. Don't worry. I won't tell if you don't."  
  
Then the man giggled. It was the only thing that kept me from throttling him. Must get away from giggling man.  
  
I exited the mess hall as quickly as my legs could take me, and wondered if the day could possibly get any worse. After all, it was only 0700.  
  
I stepped through the doors of the armory and breathed a sigh of relief. Work, sweet work. Work would be my sanctuary from Trip's giggling and Hoshi's bouncy bits. Hoshi's bouncy bits?! That was wrong, Malcolm, so very very wrong.  
  
However, with any luck I would be able to put those…parts out of my mind and get to work. Yes, just put those parts out of my mind and do an honest day's work. Then I turned and saw the half open weapons locker.  
  
Phase pistols…  
  
Well, it was a nice try anyway.  
  
*****  
  
TBC 


	6. Part VI

Part VI: Armory  
  
The armory on any normal day of the week is a beehive of activity. If it's not a drill, it's a meeting, a recalibration of equipment, maintenance, or planning next week's schedule.   
  
Sometimes, it's all of those things at once.  
  
Then again, sometimes it's just simply moving a piece of equipment from one side of the department to the other.   
  
Which was happening that day. In order to do maintenance on some of the weapons racks the crew had to move several cargo containers of supplies over to the other side of the department. So everyone pitched in and the room filled with chitchat and laughter, sometimes a little swearing, sometimes an outright yell of pain when a container slipped and landed on a foot. Good clean fun for the whole family, right?  
  
Well, good clean fun except for the small grease spot that ended up on the floor when Dimitri Nicropolous set his container down to get a better grip on it. Normally, he would have asked one of the others to get a mop and clean it up, that way he could see if the container itself had a leak or if the grease had been picked up from some other part of the armory. But the stain was directly underneath the container and so he never even noticed it.  
  
If there was one thing that could be said about Malcolm Reed's department it would have to be that it was very clean. Every morning and every evening it was mopped down to get rid of any grease that might be lurking on the floor or the ladders. Others might think this a little anal but Malcolm knew the last thing anyone wanted to do was slip and fall and crack their skull open on the floor.   
  
It sort of ruined a person's day when that happened.  
  
But nobody noticed the poor little grease spot on the floor and no other grease spots formed to keep it company so it was very lonely.   
  
Poor little grease spot sitting there with nothing to do... 


	7. Part VII

Part VII: Hoshi  
  
Travis was in the turbolift when I got in to return to my quarters. He gave me his trademark grin, after staring at my get-up for about twenty minutes. The man had a LOT of white teeth. A LOT. That's right, Travis, stare away, tell me how hot I am, because I am HOT. Malcolm certainly thought so.  
  
"Lookin' good, Hoshi," he teased.   
  
See! Hotness!  
  
"Thanks! It's my day off." I smiled happily at him, trying to show a lot of my white teeth too. Probably not doing as well as he was, though.  
  
"Really? Think you could do me a small favor?"  
  
"Of course!"   
  
Because I am hot, I am on fire, I am--  
  
"Could you take this to down to the armory and give it to Lieutenant Reed? He's not expecting it till noon, but I finished the specs last night and I think he would probably want it ASAP...Hoshi? Hoshi?"  
  
"Whaa?" I stopped listening when he got to the part about Lieutenant Reed. Death by Chinese water torture would probably have been less torturous than my day off. And it was only 0700! I felt my lip pout and tremble. Was I really too old to throw a tantrum? Couldn't I just pretend I was five again and start wailing about the total unfairness of my life? Couldn't I?  
  
"Errr, you know what, that's okay. You don't have to, really!" Travis said, his happy display of teeth gone, probably wondering what the hell he did to make me on the verge of sobbing my heart out.  
  
No! "No!" I said, yanking that padd out of his hand. Malcolm Reed wasn't going to get the best of me. No sir! "I will deliver this to him! Personally! Face to face! Man to...woman! Because I rock damn it!"  
  
Travis moved progressively farther and farther away from me, unsure what to make of my rabid mood swings. The door opened just as he took another step back. He fell on to the deck of the bridge with a loud thud, wide eyes blinking at me.  
  
"Don't worry, he'll get what's coming to him," I stated with such supreme confidence that it had to be true.  
  
"Ok," he said, nodding slowly at me, as if a sudden movement would set me off again. Heh. I grinned at him. This time, I totally had more teeth showing than he EVER did. 


	8. Part VIII

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been commenting! Chrysa and I really enjoyed writing (and continuing to write) this story. We like to torture our characters and poke fun when the opportunity presents itself. For those who think the updates have been short...hey, here's another update not 24 hours after the last! Am I nice or what?   
  
Don't worry, we'll have longer parts soon. Just remember, you asked for it! *cackles*  
  
* * * * *   
  
Part VIII: Malcolm  
  
Wonderful, wonderful work. Nothing bouncing. Nothing giggling. No wink, wink, nudge, nudge, sly innuendo for me to deal with. Just the good-natured chatter of a healthy, happy crew working.  
  
Then she walked in.  
  
Of all the gin joints in all the world...  
  
I was halfway through the armory with my container when she walked in. Still wearing that skirt that showed a dangerous amount of leg and suddenly all thoughts of work flew out of my head. Want to know what replaced them?  
  
Phase pistols. All waiting and ready to fire.  
  
Damn! My sanctuary! Gone!   
  
She took five steps in and stopped, and--dare I say it?--challenged me. And there was nowhere to hide, nowhere for me to bury my head and hide behind work.   
  
Dammit, I'm Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. Stiff arsed, no nonsense, Armory officer. Was I going to let some slip of a woman get the better of me?  
  
Well, if she were wearing a slip it'd be a very nice--No! Get your mind back on track, you nitwit!  
  
I was not going to let her get the better of me.   
  
Her eyes tracked around the room and a smile lit her face. Not trusting it, I looked around the room and found the entire male population of the armory smiling back at her.  
  
Of all the...  
  
"Here, Jacobs, since you seem to have no trouble carrying your container you can carry mine while I talk to Hoshi," I said, dumping my container on top of his.  
  
Jacobs staggered under the weight and stumbled forward. "No problem, Boss!" he gasped out. The other men looked at each other and scattered like field mice.  
  
By the time I turned around again she'd sauntered over to one of the worktables and was leaning against it. Sweat broke out on my forehead as she slid one finger up the side of the padd and back down again. An eyebrow arched daring me to comment on the susceptibility of all men to her charms.   
  
And despite the sweat congregating at my temples, I decided it must be cold in here...and she still wasn't wearing a bra.  
  
The combination of which made me warmer than I should be.  
  
I am Lieutenant Malcolm...ummm...Well so much for higher cognitive functions.  
  
Her slender finger went up one side of the padd and back down the other. All of this action took place in the vicinity of her braless chest area. When I finally remembered to breathe I croaked out, "What--ahem!--What can I do for you, Hoshi?"  
  
"You really should see Phlox about that throat, Malcolm," she smirked, crossing her ankles and leaning back on one hand. "I've got something for you."   
  
It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the padd. "Ahh. Of course." All right. Just act perfectly normal, breathe slowly and AHHHH!!!!!  
  
My feet flew out from under me and I pitched forward watching her face turn from sultry to shock and then disappear altogether as our lips, not to mention our bodies, crashed into each other and fell back onto the table. One of my hands landed on the table the other...  
  
"HOLY MARY MOTHER OF-" I sprang back off of her and hit that slippery patch again. My feet flew back out from under me and with an inarticulate screech I landed on my back. "Ow."  
  
We really should clean the ceiling. I never realized how dirty it could get.  
  
A pair of long, gorgeous legs filled my field of vision and then disappeared again as Hoshi bent down. "Malcolm? Are you okay?"  
  
I couldn't help it. My eyes drifted from hers down her outfit and back up again but not before lingering a few moments on her breasts. Her eyebrow went up again and a smirk lit her face. "Well, you must not be suffering from too much brain damage, but I still think we should get you down to Sickbay."  
  
"Okay." Yeah, anything sounded good right now. Even taking a nap on the floor with this bloody grease spot staining my ass sounded good. That sounded like a great idea. I watched her get up and head for the comm. unit on the wall and call Phlox. Just focus on the ceiling, Malcolm.  
  
Then I saw Jacobs looking down at me. "Grease spot on the floor, eh, Boss?" He gave me two thumbs up. "Nice job!"  
  
I reached up and grabbed the collar of his uniform. When his face was just a few inches from mine, I snarled. "You and every man in here will scrub this department from floor to ceiling before you go home tonight with a toothbrush."  
  
"Yes, Boss."  
  
"One bloody toothbrush!"  
  
If I was going down then I was taking everybody else with me.  
* * * * * 


	9. Part IX

* * * * *   
  
Part IX: Hoshi  
  
Dr. Phlox was expecting us. Goodie. Because I've always wanted to spend my day off in sickbay. Big rollercoaster of fun! And no line. How lucky are we? The luckiest!  
  
I turned back to Malcolm, who, with the help of crewman Jacobs, tried to stand up right. He waved off Jacob's help as he got to his feet, but was still swaying dangerously in place. Big macho baby. No, Malcolm Reed doesn't need help, not even after being knocked on his ass by a grease stain. I walked up to him, and since his eyes were strangely attached to the vicinity of my legs, I bent down to meet his eyes.   
  
He blinked with a frown on his face as our eyes made contact. Apparently I was obscuring his view and he wasn't taking it very well. Well too damn bad, these were my legs! If he stared at them anymore I would have to start charging.  
  
"Malcolm...do...you..need...help...walking?" I enunciated very very slowly. And just for fun, very very loudly.  
  
Narrowing his eyes, he glared balefully at me and replied, "No...and...I...am...dazed...not senile!" Then he nicely backed that statement up by proceeding to plunge head first into my chest.  
  
I gasped and nearly fell over from the impact. That did it. It was then I decided there was more than one way to make this macho man to admit weakness. So, before he could straighten himself, my hands came up to hold his head in place, right up against my braless chest. He flailed about like a poor fish on a hook. Wait, did that make me the bait? Sigh. The things I do to persuade a fellow officer from being such an ass.  
  
"Are you sure you don't need any help, Malcolm?" I asked sweetly, pressing him deeper into my cleavage.   
  
"Help!" he wheezed.  
  
Instant results! Good job, boobies! I should totally get them bronzed with results like these. Just how good am I? Heh. Good enough. I just hope he realizes the sacrifices my cleavage and I are making for him. I don't do this for just anyone, you know.  
  
"Let's go then!" And to his crew, I said cheerily, "Don't worry, I'll bring him back as good as new."  
  
I think I heard Jacobs, and many others, choke back a laugh as Malcolm gasped for breath after being released from my bosom. Once he had enough oxygen to speak coherently, he pointed vaguely in Jacob's direction and growled.  
  
"One. Tooth. Brush."  
  
* * * * *  
  
A/N: The next updates might come a few more days apart as we're going to run out of parts to post soon if we do it everyday. ;) 


	10. Part X

This part requires a little suspension of belief for general wackiness. Oh, and yes, Malcolm hit his head. He's dazed and confused.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Part X: Malcolm  
  
I hadn't weaved that much since I got completely smashed at a New Year's Eve party when I was twenty-one. At least my experience on the Enterprise was something I could remember. Hoshi was a steadying hand at my back, my shoulder, my head, my elbow...Actually, whenever I seemed to lean to one side she grabbed whichever part of me was handy and pulled me upright. Whenever I pitched forward she grabbed my waistband and hauled me back. This resulted in probably the most painful wedgie of all time.   
  
And she smirked the entire time. Imagine! Smirking at my pain when she was the cause of it all. I'd have given her a wedgie in return but I would have either stumble into a wall or found she didn't have any underwear on for me to grab.  
  
I grimaced as my mind took that idea and ran in circles with it. Wasn't I dizzy enough? Did I really need to go down this route?   
  
Thank God no one had their cameras out for this. Stumbling through the corridors and blushing was not a Kodak moment I wanted captured for posterity.  
  
After three near-collapses and a run in with a slow-moving turbolift door we finally made it to Sickbay.   
  
"Phlox?" Hoshi called out.  
  
A few moments later the smiling Denobulan walked out of his office and smiled. "Ahh. Hello, Hoshi! Lieutenant Reed. And how are we today?"  
  
I chose that moment to fall to the floor. I guess my body decided that actions spoke louder than words.  
  
Phlox was silent for a moment. "Not well, I see."  
  
"Malcolm and a grease spot had a disagreement. The grease spot won and punished him by making him slip and hit his head on the floor." Hoshi stifled a snigger. "And you might want to check his throat."  
  
I would have rolled my eyes but that would only have made me dizzier. It'll be okay, I thought. She'll leave, I'll lick my wounds in private, chock it all up to an insane hallucination and tomorrow we can just pretend it never happened.  
  
It sounded like a plan.  
  
I liked having a plan. It gave me the illusion of control before everything went to hell. Phlox was kind enough to help me up and over to a biobed. You know, they should clean the ceiling in here, too. Its got these swirls in it...Oh, it was spinning, that's why.  
  
"Well then, let's see..." He started humming and looking at the readings on the board behind me. He picked up a hypospray and after adjusting the setting, gently pushed it into my arm.   
  
I let out a sigh of relief as the spinning stopped and my stomach took back its place in the middle of my body again. Phlox leaned over and smiled at me. He smiles way too much. I'm sure he keeps a large bottle of happy pills somewhere.  
  
And I think he shares them with Trip.  
  
I heard another hypospray hiss but since I didn't feel anything against my skin and since Phlox was holding a padd with both hands I had to conclude that Hoshi was still in the room. Looking over, I saw her holding a hypo in one hand and looking at it curiously. She shook it and looked at me with a sheepish smile. "Oopsie." Before I could say anything, Phlox got my attention.  
  
"There we go, lieutenant," he said with an even bigger smile than before. "No permanent damage but I want you to rest for the next day or so just in case." He looked at me as if I were going to protest.  
  
After the day I'd had there was no way I was going to protest. Hiding in my quarters sounded like a marvelous idea.   
  
"You must have hit your head harder than I thought. Lay here for awhile. I'll come check on you in an hour and if everything is all right I'll let you go back to your quarters."  
  
"Great." I closed my eyes and relaxed, forgetting about Trip, Hoshi, bouncy things and the weirdness of today. I heard Phlox bustle out of the room and open a comm. channel to the captain telling him I was out for the rest of the day.  
  
"Heeeey. You're pretty."  
  
Huh?  
  
I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I peered at Hoshi through my eyelashes as she came to stand next to the bed. She giggled. I didn't know what she was on, but I wanted some of it.  
  
Then her eyes got wide, and she comically pursed her lips before whispering conspiratorially, "Are you ticklish?"  
  
"What. . ." What kind of a question was that? Then it hit me. The hypospray. "Doctor! DOCTOR PHLOX! Hoshi, Hoshi, give me that. Did you inject that into yourself?!"  
  
She giggled again and lunged for me as I rolled off the bed and onto the floor.   
  
"Hosh--YIPE!" I ducked and ran as she scrambled over the biobed and managed to goose me before I could escape her hands. "PHLOX!!"  
  
"What is--Oh dear." Phlox stood at the door to his office, dumbfounded as he watched Hoshi chase me around sickbay.  
  
"What was in the hypo?!!"  
  
"What hypo?"  
  
"THAT HYPO!!!" I screamed, passing by him and pointing back at the one she'd left on the biobed.  
  
"I don't know...Unless I didn't give my bat his medicine as I thought I had. Let me think."  
  
"Phlox!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"THINK FASTER!!"  
  
"Malcolm! I'm just trying to get to know you better!" Hoshi called out as she put on a burst of speed and grabbed my rear before I leapt over another biobed.   
  
"No offense, Hoshi, but I don't think we should do that in your present state of mind."  
  
I was on my second lap around Sickbay when Phlox suddenly brightened. "I remember. Liz came in with a twisted ankle and I put the hypo down and tended to her. I forgot all about it!" He laughed.  
  
He laughed! I was being chased around Sickbay and he was laughing! I skidded around a biobed and dived between his legs. Unfortunately, Hoshi was right behind me and as I got up she turned me over--man she's strong!--and got me on the lips before I could slide away.   
  
"Gee, Malcolm, thought you liked me," she said, licking her lips and getting up.  
  
Is this what prey feels like?  
  
"Phlox, what does that bat medicine do to humans?" I asked, backing up and around a bed, watching her carefully.  
  
"Well," Phlox began, tilting his head to the left, "it will work its way out of her system in a few hours. Nothing truly harmful." He slid to his left. "Only..."  
  
"Only?" She lunged to left and I flung myself to the right, tucking and rolling, barely able to stop myself before running into a medicine cabinet. I crawled under another bed.  
  
"It acts rather like an aphrodisiac in humans." He looked at Hoshi and when he knew she wasn't looking, he motioned to his left and took another step in that direction.   
  
I was too stunned to understand what he wanted. An aphrodisiac? Then I peeked up over the bed at Hoshi. There she was, like a cat waiting to pounce.  
  
"Come on, Malcolm. I know you want to."  
  
Okay, yes, I wanted to. I'm a red-blooded man. Put a beautiful woman in front of me and what do you expect? But this was Hoshi. I respected her. I liked her. I'd never take advantage of her.  
  
Besides, she'd kill me.   
  
Slowly.   
  
Painfully.   
  
That would be a bad thing.  
  
I ducked down and looked back at Phlox who was standing next to the decon room. Oh...OH! I got it! Hey, I had a head injury. Can you blame me for being a little slow on the uptake? I took a deep breath and peered over the edge of the bed. "Hey, Hoshi," I said, smiling and standing.   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Bet you can't catch me!" I took off for the decon room. Her footsteps pounded after me and dashed into the decon room. It would have been perfect except I slipped and skidded across the floor, Hoshi flying in after me. I scrambled to my feet and ran for the door. Phlox urged me on, his hand on the door controls but as I stepped out I felt a hand in my collar and a hard yank and suddenly I was on the floor and the door was closing.  
  
Crap.  
  
"PPPPHHHHLLLLLOOOOO--OOF!" Hoshi sat on my stomach and pinned my wrists over my head.  
  
"Alone at last," she said with a smile and planted her lips on mine.   
  
"I'm sorry, lieutenant!" Phlox said through the slot in the wall. "The door is jammed."  
  
I turned my head away. "That's not good."  
  
Hoshi smirked and nipped my earlobe. "You're right. It's perfect."  
  
"I'm going to get Trip," Phlox said, moving away.  
  
"NO!" Hoshi and I both yelled and then looked at each other in surprise.  
  
"Not Trip!" I yelled. "Anyone but Trip." Hell, I'd take the captain over Trip at this point.  
  
Except Phlox was already gone and I was trapped with a beautiful woman whose libido was out of control.   
  
What a day.  
  
"Hoshi," I said, hoping to reason with her. I manage to free one of my hands. "You really don't want to--HEY!" I looked at her in indignation and removed her hand from below my waist. "We're not that well acquainted yet."  
  
"Mmmmm...but don't you want to be?" she whispered next to my ear.   
  
"Yes, no! Argh!" I managed to roll her over and back off, scuttling for the opposite side of the room. "STOP! Stay. Right. There." I warned her, getting as far away from her and that body as I could get.  
  
Her eyes glittered in the blue light and she took a step forward, an extreme amount of leg showing. Was it hot in here? I pulled at my collar nervously. "What happens if I don't?"  
  
"I don't know, but you need to stay over there!" Where the hell was everyone? Shouldn't they be here by now?  
  
Her smile became seductive and the temperature in the room shot up ten degrees. "I know you want me," she said, toying with the strap on her tank top and taking a few steps towards me.  
  
She'd been sitting on me. How could she not know? "That's not the point, Hoshi." I swallowed hard, inching my way along the wall to the door as that strap slid down her arm. "If we do this, later when you come to your senses, you'll kill me!"  
  
"Malcolm!" No, nononononoonono. I closed my eyes. Not Trip. Not Trip. Please! Anyone but Trip. Let me catch one break today.  
  
She moved fast. When I opened my eyes again she was there, her body pressed up against mine and the other strap off her shoulder. "Be a hell of a way to die wouldn't it?" she asked, before kissing me again.  
  
"Should I leave you two lovebirds alone?" Trip asked slyly.  
  
I broke the kiss, gasping for air, every cell in my body telling me not to. "NO! Open the damn door, Trip!"  
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
"Do you really want to piss off the one guy who can put explosives under your bed, Trip?!"  
  
"Come on, Malcolm. We could be stuck here for hours," Hoshi smiled, nibbling on my neck. Oh God, that felt good. She pulled the zipper on my uniform down and slid a hand inside.  
  
"You know I could redecorate this for you guys. Put in some mood lighting, a bed..."  
  
"TRIP!!!"  
  
"All right. All right. Hang on!" Trip was laughing too hard to pick up his tools, I could tell.   
  
She was sucking on my lower lip! Hurry up!! My hands were pressed flat against the wall because I knew if I touched her it'd be all over. "Hoshi, please. Think about this."  
  
"I am. Do you think if I asked nicely, Phlox could bring us some melted chocolate?"  
  
I couldn't help it. I groaned at the images that brought up. Think cold showers. Think military drills. Think phase pistols...  
  
"HURRY, TRIP!"  
  
"Keep your britches on--oops, sorry!"  
  
What kind of explosive do you give to the man who has a big mouth?  
  
I looked down. How in the world did she get that zipper down so fast? Suddenly, the door wooshed open. I pulled Hoshi's hands out of my uniform and ran for it, slamming my hand on the door control. The door slid shut on Hoshi's scream of frustration and I slid down the wall, breathing heavily.   
  
Trip and Phlox looked down at me. With as much dignity as I could muster, I stood and zipped my uniform up. Trip opened his mouth.  
  
"Oh. Shut up." I stalked out of the Sickbay.   
  
I needed to take a cold shower. Several cold showers.  
* * * * * 


	11. Part XI

* * * * *  
  
Part XI: Hoshi  
  
I awoke with a splitting headache. The kind that makes you wish your head was detachable. There was so much blue light around me at first I thought was I underwater. On second thought, the whole being-able-to-breath thing kind of threw that idea off. But while we're on the whole water motif, my head chose that moment to flood me with memories of what happened before I fell asleep in the Enterprise decontamination chamber.   
  
...  
  
There isn't a big enough black hole in the universe for me to hide in. I had to settle for the decon chamber. That's right folks. I was never coming out of this room. Never. Ever. I looked around the room, trying to see how I could decorate my new home.  
  
"Ah, Ensign, you're awake."  
  
No I wasn't. If I'd really been awake, I would have been able to look back on memories of that horrendous day and realize it was just a nightmare. I pinched myself. Hard. Twice. Nope, I was still there. Still remembered running around sickbay chasing after Malcolm. Still remembered kissing the lips of Malcolm.   
  
I SAT on him. I usually don't make a habit of sitting on people unless I plan to take their clothes off and have my way with them. Oh, that's right. I was planning on doing that to the sexy beast that is Malcolm Reed.  
  
Oh shut up, shut up, stop thinking, Hoshi's brain!   
  
The decon doors opened and Phlox peered in. "Ensign. Time to come out now. I have to see if there are any foreign substances remaining in your bloodstream."  
  
I made no move. I am a stone. Be one with the stone. Be the stone.  
  
Phlox smiled. "It's quite all right, Ensign. Lieutenant Reed departed a while ago. I do not believe he will be coming back soon."  
  
I flushed at the mention of his name. I had a feeling I would do that for a long time to come. That is if I actually lived through the embarrassment that was me. So much for living a long and fulfilled life as an inconspicuous exo-linguist. I was convinced I would die of embarrassment at any minute. Preferably immediately, so I wouldn't have to leave decon and actually face anyone, anyone. . . him.   
  
"Ahh, perhaps you are embarrassed at your behavior? Don't worry, you were heavily under the influence of drugs. And as I recall, the Lieutenant did physically respond favorably to your amorous intentions. In fact, I took the liberty of taking readings of his hormone levels-"  
  
I ran up and frantically waved my hands at the Denobulan. "Stop! STOP! I don't want to hear this!" Like it takes a doctor to know whether the guy was turned on or not...no! Stop Hoshi! Don't go there! Make a u-turn and just pretend your mind never went down that lane. "Too, way too much information, Doctor!"  
  
Phlox gave me with a cup of water and proceeded to scan me.   
  
"Really? Commander Tucker seemed very interested in what I had to say."  
  
Water sprayed all over the floor. Dr. Phlox tsked. I would have felt bad if it weren't for that sinking feeling in my stomach.  
  
Trip. Trip had been there. Of course Trip had been there. What kind of embarrassing moment would it be if Trip wasn't there to chronicle every single detail of my descent into the land of eternal shame?  
  
Several moments later, Dr. Phlox said I was free of any residual compounds. Although it could have been more than several, since I was busy contemplating how I was going to ever show my face outside of sickbay with Trip and his motormouth blabbing to God knows who. When it didn't look like I was going anywhere, he repeated his prognosis, a dismissal if I've ever heard one. Nobody likes me! Dr. Phlox didn't and Malcolm certainly didn't otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here--most likely somewhere else going at it like rabbits--  
  
Why did I get the feeling that whatever medicine I accidentally injected into myself hadn't completely removed itself from my system? I didn't care what the medical tricorder said! These were bad thoughts! Bad! And I should get myself far away from the source. Sickbay. Who knows what other things Phlox has lying around! With a hasty nod at Dr. Phlox, I departed sickbay and suddenly the small confines of my room didn't seem all that claustrophobic. Just let me stay in there until this day was over, that was all I asked.  
  
The turbolift opened and I knew my terrible horrible awful day was not yet over. Trip and Captain Archer stood in the lift. Trip's mouth did a little dance around his face as he tried to keep himself from laughing his ass off. And Captain Archer, well, he wasn't Captain for nothing. He smiled graciously at me and stepped back to give me more room. Or maybe he thought he'd better back away before I lost control and started beating them both for getting too much enjoyment from my humiliating day. Smart man.  
  
I walked in regally and turned swiftly around to face the door again. Except I had too much of an active imagination and I could just imagine them making faces behind me, hugging themselves, shaking from silent laughter. Then I heard Trip gave a little hiccup that sounded too much like an aborted laugh. That was it. No more!  
  
I whirled around. Captain Archer blinked innocently at me and Trip looked down, suddenly fascinated with his shiny poop-derived boots. I squared my shoulders and straightened to my best height, which didn't really improve the situation by much since the men were not only taller, but bigger than me. I started to blame my parents for giving me short genes but decided to blame Captain Archer and Trip's parents instead. Damn tall people. Damn them all!  
  
Yes, Hoshi, feed on the anger! Feed on the injustice! Feed on Trip and his big freakin' mouth!  
  
I made an indignant, yet brave, face at Captain Archer. "You know what? Go ahead and laugh," I spat, jabbing my index finger into his chest with each word. "Because I don't care. I've got thick skin! I've got skin so thick it would make a---a---an elephant jealous! So laugh!" I glared at Trip. "Go right ahead and laugh, but just remember, the next time we're stuck in decon, I won't hesitate to point and laugh either! So there!"  
  
Captain Archer's jaw dropped and Trip's face reddened at the finishing touch of my tirade.  
  
I turned my nose up at them and pivoted on my heels to face the door, trying not to dwell on the fact that I had basically assaulted my Captain and was very insubordinate to a higher ranking officer.  
  
"Ow," Captain Archer said somewhere behind me. Silence. Then, "Trip, do you have something you want to tell me about your little detour to sickbay this morning?"  
  
Oh no. Oh hell. Oh shit.  
  
"Weeeeeeell, Malcolm kinda told me he would staple my lips shut if I so much as breathed one word of the Incident, but since Hoshi doesn't seem to mind..."  
  
It took every fiber of my being not to whimper and bury my face in my hands.  
  
I hate Trip. I hate Trip lots and lots. 


	12. Part XII

Part XII: Malcolm   
  
I am certifiably insane.   
  
I'm serious! I decided they could just pack me up and cart me away, because if this morning was any indication the rest of the day was just going to go downhill.   
  
It took me four cold showers to get the image of Hoshi plastered against me out of my mind. Then I made the mistake of picking up my dirty clothing, which I'd practically jumped out of when I got down to my quarters. My Hoshi-scented clothing sent me running back in for cold shower number five.   
  
Is this some weird version of hell?   
  
And if so, why didn't my father tell me about it when I started dating?   
  
WHOA!   
  
Bad, Malcolm, bad!! Back that shuttle pod up and park it in the docking bay.   
  
"God? Are you there? It's me, Malcolm," I said leaning against the shower wall. "Would it be possible for the rest of today be normal?" I looked up at the ceiling.   
  
No answer.   
  
"I can do this. I can have a normal day." I squared my shoulders and put my hand on the shower door. Proud kickass armory office coming through!   
  
An image I completely ruined when I peeked out the shower door like a 'fraidy, cat as if Hoshi would jump out of the shadows at any second.   
  
I'm pathetic.   
  
"Get a grip on yourself!" Oh, bad choice of words. Grab the damn towel and get the hell out of the bathroom before you slip and end up back in Sickbay.   
  
"You can do this. You can go five minutes without thinking about her. You are not a randy teenager ruled by your hormones." Okay. Towel: check. Securely fastened: check. No phase pistols: check. Clothing...I looked around. Clothing...Okay, no clothing.   
  
A quick peek out of the bathroom door revealed no slim, sexy ensigns wearing provocative clothing and no bras. One step, two, three steps and no one had fallen out of the ceiling, jumped out of the closet, or plastered themselves to my body and kissed me senseless.   
  
While part of me was mildly disappointed, the rest of me wanted to do a victory dance.   
  
"So far, so good." Now get your clothing back on before fate decides to screw you over again.   
  
"Gomez to Reed."   
  
"Ahh!" Guess that towel wasn't as securely fastened as I thought it was. Quickly, I pulled it back up and yanked a pair of boxers out of my dresser before dashing over to the comm. unit. "Yes, Em?"   
  
"Boss! Good to hear you. Your head feeling any better?" There was a snort of laughter in the background and I heard Em make a shushing sound. "Thank you for letting us know where your mind is, Jacobs. By the way you missed a spot."   
  
"Where?" Poor bastard. She was going to make him pay for that. It's always good to know someone's got your back.   
  
There was a splash as something liquid hit the floor. "Right there, genius. Have fun."   
  
"Aww, shit."   
  
"Scrub, scrub, scrub!"   
  
Ahh yes, it is good to have someone watching your back. I chuckled.   
  
"Hey, I got a laugh outta my boss. I deserve an award for that. We finished moving those canisters and the guys are having fun with that lone toothbrush. Of course, we've had to replace it about a thousand times but we got some nice video footage out of it. I'll send it up later."   
  
"You do that. Anything else I should know?" Because I'd just realized how cold the floor was, and I really wanted to get the rest of my clothes on. There was a slight pause as Em thought of what to say and alarms went off in my head.   
  
"Oh, not really, sir. Just a chief engineering birdie twittering when he really shouldn't be."   
  
Oh shit. Double, utter shit. "Twittering? Twittering about what exactly?"   
  
"Well...you, a certain pretty communications ensign, the decon room..."   
  
"Oh my God." I dashed over to my closet certain that if I didn't put something on now some horrible fate would befall me.   
  
"And maybe a little blue gel usage. Although that hasn't been confirmed. You know, Phlox could make a mint if he ever decided to sell it as an aphrodisiac."   
  
"Oh, bloody hell!" Actually, hell would be preferable since I'd be dying, but not of humiliation. I pulled my shirt over my head. "Haven't all of you been working? How did you find out about any of this?!"   
  
I could almost see her crafty I-see-and-hear-all-smile. "Well, you know how it goes, Boss. Chief engineering birdies tell other little birdies who tell other birdies who then tell me so I can set up the betting pools."   
  
"BETTING POOLS?!" They'd never find Em's body.   
  
Needed: One new armory second-in-command. Must have several years of experience, certification in all shipboard weaponry, and most importantly must have ability to KEEP MOUTH SHUT! Betting pools prohibited.   
  
I could put the ad in the daily announcements.   
  
"Keep your shorts on, Boss." There was another snicker behind her and a splash of something liquid hit the floor.   
  
"Aww dammit! I just cleaned that up, Em!"   
  
"It just jumped out of my hands! I swear!" She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, Boss. I know better than to touch a betting pool labeled 'Where will they snog next?' I'm reckless, not stupid."   
  
Whew. I liked Em. It takes time to break in a second-in-command.   
  
"However..."   
  
Uh-oh.   
  
"I did start another pool."   
  
"Dare I ask?"   
  
"I think you'll like this one. We're taking bets on how Trip is going to die because of this."   
  
Now, this caught my interest. "Really?" You know, morale on this ship could use a boost. Especially mine.   
  
"Oh yeah. Date, time of death, humiliation, mutilation, will his remains be recognizable or will we have to do a DNA scan?"   
  
"What are you betting on?"   
  
"Midnight with fireworks up his shorts and I know this fella who's been practicing with the transporter. I figure if he doesn't get scrambled in the beam, showing up in T'Pol's shower will at least contribute to the humiliation factor and he'll crack his head open trying to get out of there as fast as he can."   
  
If I could get pictures of that it'd be wonderful blackmail material later on. "I'll see what I can do to accommodate you."   
  
"Excellent, sir. Oh, and sir?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Um...I hear the EPS conduits are nice and secluded around 1800 hours."   
  
"Brat!" Her laughter followed me as I grabbed a few padds and escaped from my quarters to hunt down some lunch. Lunch and then I was going to hide. A level three diagnostic that had to be done in the next few days and there was no real reason I couldn't get a jump on things since I had the rest of the day off.   
  
I wasn't going to tempt fate by lying around in my quarters.   
  
And besides, the conduits were the last place Hoshi would be.   
  
See, unlike Em, I *knew* she was claustrophobic.   
  
I also knew that the mess hall would be virtually deserted around this time of day since it wasn't quite lunchtime yet. I walked in, grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water and walked right back out. No muss, no fuss, but a definite sigh of relief.   
  
I shoved Em and her betting pools to the back of my mind and happily munched on my ham sandwich as I read over the padds. Looking up, I oriented myself and headed for the nearest hatch. I finished my lunch, disposed of the trash and climbed in.   
  
Normal. Perfectly normal.   
  
Maybe the day was finally looking up.   
  
I lost track of time as I lay flat on my back and tested system after system, my only company the beeping padds and my own voice as I hummed rock tunes. The next time I got a bright idea like this, I was going to bring my music player. My stomach suddenly rumbled and I looked at it in confusion. Hadn't I just eaten? I glanced at my watch.   
  
1800 hours.   
  
Why did that sound familiar?   
  
Oh yeah, Em said that the conduits were deserted around this time...   
  
Oh, shit. 


	13. Part XIII

Part XIII: Hoshi   
  
Death by embarrassment. Think Starfleet took that into account when they sent us out here? It's not as if I could pack my bags and go off to another country, planet, quadrant...no, I'm stuck here with same eighty odd people, most of whom, by this point, thought I was a crazed nympho trying to get into our armory officer's pants. Let's not forget Porthos. I swore if he started howling at me when I walk by, I was going to walk into the nearest airlock and jettison myself out into space.   
  
I had never been so embarrassed...no wait, the birthday fiasco...and that time when I lost my shirt crawling through the death trap people around here call the EPS conduits. Hmmm, anyone sensing, oh, I don't know, a pattern here?! Hmm, new resolution, stay away from Malcolm Reed. Yes, I can do that. I mean, other than the fact that we work the same shift, all other possible contact could be avoided! Yes, it was meant to be. I should have known by the simple feng shui arrangement of the bridge. See, his station is all the way over there, the furthest station away from mine! If that's not a big "stay away" sign from the universe, I don't know what is. Okay, now I get it, I get it NOW, you hear? I don't need any more hints in the form of busybody birthday well-wishing Captains or wayward shirts...wait...huh. Where is that shirt?   
  
Oh no! I realized I'd left it there. And one of these days when Malcolm bothers looking up instead of burying his nose in phase cannon schematics he's going to find my shirt dangling there in front of his doorway. Then he'd have to return it to me. Unnecessary contact! Must be avoided at all costs!   
  
But but...I couldn't be seen hovering near Malcolm's quarters. There was no way I was contributing to that nasty rumor going around saying I was trying to get it on with Lieutenant Reed in decon. Why yes, it is a very nasty rumor and I don't know why people would think I have the hots for him when we have the most professional of relationships. Yes, I COULD say that with a straight face. Hurray!   
  
Okay, physically removing the shirt by ladder, big no, lest I want the rumor to get even nastier in its nastiness. Ohhh, maybe I could beam it out! Yeah, hi transporter log, would you mind not recording how Ensign Hoshi Sato transported a shirt away from the vicinity of Malcolm Reed's quarters? No? Shit. I don't understand why we have all this technology when we can't even put it to good use. Honestly.   
  
That left only one option. I'd have to get it the way I lost it. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Back into the death trap. Look at it this way, been there, done that, you can do it. You're a big girl! And those are very small EPS conduits... No, no, I've conquered the EVA suits, this is just the next step, you know, just in case the ship ever gets taken over again, and I'm still the tiniest mobile officer around.   
  
Ha ha, what are the chances of that happening again?   
  
...all righty then, back into the conduits it is. Need more practice. Shall be prepared.   
  
Flashlight: check. Sturdy shirt: check. Separate sports bra: check. Big gaping hole in wall: check. I took a deep breath and plunged in. I figured it shouldn't take too long since I already had experience. Yup, yup, and the walls weren't closing in on me. Not at all. Shouldn't I be there by now?! Breathe, must breathe, but not too fast, don't want to hyperventilate--don't want to have someone discover Hoshi freaking out in the conduits. Snort. With my luck, Malcolm would probably be the closest one to rescue me--hey! There it was! Hello, wayward shirt! Did you miss me? I certainly missed you. Remember that time when you got caught on a latch and I had to face a certain armory officer half naked? Yeah, good times.   
  
Hmm. Oh-oh. Round trip back. Everything looked slightly different from this point of view. The walls looked closer, the space smaller...oh, I was so very freaking out. Move body, move! Okay, I couldn't move, I was frozen in place like a big turkey on Thanksgiving.   
  
Not. Enough. Air.   
  
Mommy. I definitely wanted my mommy.   
  
Clunk!   
  
Mommy?   
  
But mommy doesn't have blue eyes! Or that ass...   
  
"Malcolm?!" I gasped.   
  
"Hoshi?!" he gasped.   
  
Then we all gasped some more, though I think I did a little more gasping than he did, cause, hello, panic attack! What's his excuse?!   
  
"What the hell are you doing here?!" he hissed.   
  
What, the EPS conduits had his name on them? I don't think so. On the other hand, his voice had never been so sexy. My head was swimming and I still couldn't breathe, but his voice was just so--the walls, the walls, can't breathe--   
  
"Well? Oof!" He grunted as I shoved him against a wall. Yes, keep the walls away!   
  
"The walls, the walls are closing," I croaked, "Help, I need, help. Distraction, need distraction--"   
  
He swallowed, suddenly breaking out into sweat. "What kind of distrac--"   
  
This kind, you moron! I latched on to him. Lips. Chest. Groin. Press. Slide. Repeat. Ohhhhhh. It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'things that go bump in the   
night.'   
  
"Stop! Stop!"   
  
Why? Why?   
  
"Ho--gaaaa!"   
  
Ohhhh, lip-licious...neck-licious...chest-licious...waist-licious...   
  
"STOP!" he yelled, yanking me away, making my head spin. I blinked at him, dazed, gasping-- He stared at me, his eyes sobering slightly despite his panting. Then, without warning, he lunged at me.   
  
"Oommphh!" Welcome back lips! Oh, and this time, tongue came along. The more the merrier, I always say!   
  
And Earth. Definitely moving. And I was floating high as a kite! Hmm, Malcolm is quite a ride. Hee hee.   
  
Then he let me go and asked huskily, "Better...now?"   
  
"Hmmm?" I jerked my eyes from his lips and suddenly realized we were no longer in the conduits, but in a much more spacious floating place. A memory jiggled. The sweet spot. Awww, he was distracting me to get me to a bigger place. Isn't that sweet?   
  
***** 


	14. Part XIV

Part XIV: Malcolm   
  
God is a woman.   
  
And she is laughing her ass off at me.   
  
How else would I end up in a cramped conduit with a claustrophobic woman whose only way of distracting herself is to throw herself at me? Or end up kissing the same woman all over this ship?!   
  
Not that I'm really complaining mind you. I'd just like to know what I did in a past life to have this happen to me. Except I'm not sure if I want to know because I want to avoid this happening again or I want to know because I want it to happen again.   
  
At least I had the presence of mind to move us into a bigger place while I was distracting her.   
  
That counts for something right? Right? Never mind that I seriously enjoyed having Hoshi's body pressed right up against me in a tight place. Sliding up and down...   
  
I think I'm going to stay away from the conduits for a while.   
  
"Yeah. I think this is much better."   
  
Hmm? Having completely lost the point of this conversation while contemplating God's gender and sex in an EPS conduit, I blinked and refocused on Hoshi.   
  
Then I focused on the strange fact that I still had her pressed up against my body and one of my hands had slid down to her ass. While I was thinking about this, some sick little part of me wondered if Hoshi was saying that being in an open space was better or that having my hands on her body was better.   
  
I wonder how much water the Enterprise carries. I can easily see several cold showers resulting from this.   
  
Okay. I figure I should step back for a moment and take stock of all of this. While I was thinking about it, I took my hand off Hoshi's ass and put it on her waist. Yes, much better.   
  
Fact one: I am generally considered one of the coldest fish around when it comes to anything resembling emotions and intimacy on any level.   
  
Fact two: I outrank Hoshi. I also admire Hoshi in many ways and find her extremely attractive. Besides, any fantasies I have about her were just that. Fantasies. THINGS YOU WOULD NEVER DO IN REALITY!   
  
Fact three: Fate, God or the Powers That Be who have screwed me over in the past, romantically and otherwise, have seen fit to throw me and Hoshi in any number of compromising positions. This usually results in us kissing or me being fondled, nearly stripped, and almost ravished in several locations on this ship in front of witnesses.   
  
What can we conclude from this? Either someone's trying to tell me something or else I have a cosmic KICK ME sign plastered to my back.   
  
Damn. They don't cover things like this at the academy.   
  
"Attention all hands, this is the captain speaking," Archer's voice rang out over the comm. system.   
  
Yeah, tell me you didn't see this one coming.   
  
"We're approaching an ion storm en route to our next destination. Sub-commander T'Pol informs me that it's moving too fast for us to be able to avoid it. The hull plating should be enough to get us through with little damage, though. So, everyone, I suggest that you hold tight."   
  
On cue, the ship jumped and shuddered around us. Hoshi and I clutched each other a little tighter. That small motion sent us spinning slightly and we drifted toward a wall. Kicking backward, I managed to maneuver us so that my back was to the wall. The last thing Hoshi needed was my weight making her feel trapped and triggering another claustrophobic episode.   
  
Or maybe I just liked the way she was leaning against me, her face buried in my neck.   
  
It was hard to tell.   
  
The Enterprise bucked and shuddered underneath us again.   
  
"Hoshi?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Look at me."   
  
I meant to reassure her--tell her I had a plan to get us out of here and back out into the corridors. In an odd moment of synchronicity, however, we turned our faces towards one another at the same time, and our lips brushed in a light butterfly kiss. I must have jerked back and turned another amazing shade of tomato red because the next thing I knew, Hoshi's hands were on my face and she was leaning in close.   
  
"Malcolm, breathe!"   
  
My lungs greedily sucked in air and transported it to my oxygen-starved brain. I swallowed convulsively as she drifted closer, inadvertently brushing against me.   
  
"Malcolm? Are you okay?"   
  
No. Nonononononononono. I was not okay. I was the definition of not okay. Our make-out session in the conduits and her body brushing up against mine in zero-g was bringing all sorts of wonderful X-rated images to my mind. All the blood above my waist was rushing south which easily explained why coherent thought was completely beyond me right now. Clearing my throat, I managed a croak that came out at a pitch higher than my normal voice. "Fine!"   
  
Got puberty?   
  
The ship shuddered and bucked violently, hitting me in the back and throwing me against Hoshi.   
  
"Ma-umpf!!"   
  
If you can't guess why she stopped speaking then you really haven't been paying much attention, have you?   
  
I couldn't take it anymore!   
  
The rational part of my brain was jumped up and down screaming at me to stop as I pulled her against me before she could bounce off. One hand wrapped around her waist while the other went up and pulled the tie out of her hair.   
  
I muffled her gasp with another kiss and told the rational part of my brain to sod off.   
  
Can you really blame me for having a breakdown? The universe continually threw this gorgeous woman at me and there was really only so much I could take before declaring the age of chivalry dead and stomping the 'Do Not Pet The Hoshi' sign into dust.   
  
She didn't seem to be objecting...plus I learned she makes the most interesting sounds when you nibble on her neck. God, she felt good. Even her hair was like silk.   
  
You know, insane feels really good. 


	15. Part XV

Part XV: Hoshi   
  
Hm. I think Malcolm likes me. I think he REALLY likes me. Like on a scale of 1-10, 100. Because it REALLY felt like off the charts, if you know what I mean. Not that how...high...it is matters, of course. It can't hurt though.   
  
Wow, space really IS the final frontier, because if you ever told me that I was going to make out with a lean mean phase pistol toting machine in zero-g during an ion storm I would have laughed in your face. I shall never look at ion storms the same way again. If the ship's a rocking, don't come a knocking. Ain't that the truth? Yes, I am twelve. Oh yeah, these are the adventures of Hoshi Sato, to explore new necking positions and boldly where no woman has gone before.   
  
Starfleet should write that on their recruitment ads. You know, 'Gravity putting a cramp in your sex life? Join Starfleet, and prepare to discover whole new civilizations. Wink wink.'   
  
And at the rate we were going, new civilization, here we come.   
  
Oh wow, that really hit the spot! I should have known, the guy's got naval blood in his genes, he really knows how to navigate. Add the inclination to make things go BOOM...it was too good to be true. Next thing I know I'm going to wake up and find the past few days just a hallucination. Snort. At least this one was more fun than the last hallucination I had. You know, the one where I was invisible? Lamest. Hallucination. Ever.   
  
Whoa. It felt way too good to be a hallucination. That's a good thing, right?   
  
But did I really want this?   
  
Yes.   
  
Okay, wrong question. Was this going to be good for me?   
  
HELL, YES.   
  
All right, all right, let's put it this way. Was this a wise course of action?   
  
...   
  
Yeah, uh-huh, I thought so.   
  
"Umm---acolm--ummm," I attempted to say. Not the best attempt from Earth's top linguist, but as good as I am, my lips couldn't multitask.   
  
"Yes, love?"   
  
Gaaah. Gaaaaaaaah. Speechless. Me. Me speechless. Mini fireworks exploding at the British endearment from British hunk nibbling expertly at my neck.   
  
My brain, formerly containing forty-something languages, went blank with the exception of two words.   
  
Hot. Man.   
  
For a moment I comtemplated the fact that making out with Malcolm didn't seem to be good for my communicating skills. Then I realized, with the help of Malcolm's expert hands, that not all communication is verbal. In fact, actions speak louder than words, don't they? As his lips traced over my collarbone, teeth nipping greedily, his message was loud and clear.   
  
I want you very badly. Over.   
  
In response, I leaned into him so that the only thing separating our bodies was our clothes and kissed him senseless, employing all my skills as an expert linguist, adding that little hip grind I incorporated from a brief hula dancing stint in Hawaii.   
  
Come and get it, bad boy. Over.   
  
He groaned like a man in pain. Pain that had the name Hoshi written all over it. Hee hee. Ohhhh, even his groans sound British. Never letting me have the upperhand for long, his hands were soon roaming across my chest. They felt so right there, like the comsic key and lock. Or just the fact that he'd already felt me up several times sort of denoted some kind of familiarity. Like baby ducks and their mothers. Yup, the memory of his hand was forever imprinted on my boobs.   
  
Why were we wearing so many clothes? Friction, good. Skin, better! I shuddered in pleasure as his callused fingers tiptoed down my spine. What a way to lock and load.   
  
"Hey, Mike, I think I heard some noise over there," came Trip's voice through the empty conduits.   
  
Malcolm and I froze in place.   
  
No. No. Stay away. Be lazy for once. Go do something you're not supposed to do. You're so good at that!   
  
"Go back to Engineering, I'm gonna go check it out," Trip called out. Happily.   
  
Of course he would be happy. I'm convinced he has some sort of radar, constantly seeking us out during the most compromising of situations. I know, if only we weren't always IN compromising situations, that wouldn't matter. But hey, if I was meant to be logical I would have been born a Vulcan.   
  
I looked at Malcolm, his breath still coming in short pants as was mine. And though he had heard the commander's announcement, he was still staring so hotly at me I'm surprised my hair wasn't on fire--my face sure felt like it.   
  
"So..." I started. Don't jump him. Don't jump him. Again. No matter how good he looked at that moment, all rumpled and sexy like he just rolled out of bed. I am not a nympho, I can control myself. Stop staring at me with those flamey blue eyes of yours! Oh God, when's Trip going to get there?   
  
Trip's head popped in a second later and he blinked in surprise as he registered our presence. He took in our flushed complexions and the numerous hickies forming on my neck. Then his face broke into a lascivious grin. "Wow, zero-g, never thought of that before. Y'all are less uptight than I thought!"   
  
I am NOT uptight. Just a bit high strung. As of that moment, very tightly strung. 


	16. Part XVI

Part XVI : Malcolm   
  
He was a fucking dead man.   
  
My gaze swung from he-who-has-REALLY-BAD-TIMING to Hoshi. Wonderfully mussed, incredibly sexy...I had to fight down the urge to grab her and haul her off to some other deserted part of the ship.   
  
Like my quarters.   
  
Trip couldn't come into my quarters.   
  
I have a lock on my door.   
  
Locks are good.   
  
Locking Trip up would be very good.   
  
I looked at Trip, the possibilities of tying him up and locking him in a dark storage room--no, an airlock!--running through my mind. I could jettison him and his damn radar out into space and no one would be able to find him.   
  
Because in space no one could hear you scream.   
  
Nah, we'd make a recording of his screaming for posterity.   
  
Some of these thoughts must have made it to my face because Trip turned this wonderful shade of white and gulped. "I uh, heh...I'm gonna go now, guys. Um...Carry on." And the man with incredibly bad timing did a 360 and scooted away as fast as possible.   
  
This left sexy, rumpled Hoshi and I alone in the sweet spot. Don't jump her. Don't jump her. Her breaths were coming in these sexy little pants--stop thinking about it! Your hormones do not rule you!   
  
Nope, because she rules them and all she would have to do is crook one of those slender fingers at you and you'd go running, wouldn't you, Malcolm? I ran a hand over my face in a pathetic attempt to regain control. Then I looked at her again.   
  
So much for control.   
  
She needed to get out of here before I jumped her again. I looked at her. "Hoshi?" Doing fine so far.   
  
"Yeah?" She looked at me, a hickey peeking out from under her waterfall of black hair. My resolve started to crack.   
  
"There are probably engineers crawling all over the place." Breathe. God, where did the air go?   
  
"Yeah." Don't focus on her lips. Look somewhere else. Shit! Not her chest, stupid! Her eyes. Her eyes are good.   
  
Her eyes are gorgeous.   
  
I was sooo screwed. "Hoshi?" I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"You have to go." My control was unraveling faster and faster.   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
My eyes flew open and she looked shocked for a moment before understanding flooded her face.   
  
"You have to go now or neither of us will be leaving any time soon."   
  
"How do I--"   
  
I closed my eyes again and pointed to the ladder below us.   
  
"I'll...see you later, Malcolm." I heard her scramble down the ladder.   
  
"See ya later, Hoshi." Lots and lots of cold showers later.   
  
*****   
  
There is not enough cold water on this damn ship. The only thing stopping me from myself was bridge duty in the morning and a desperate need for sleep.   
  
Yeah, maybe sleep would help. I crawled into bed, turned off the light, and closed my eyes...   
  
Only to have visions of Hoshi dancing in my head.   
  
"Oh no. No, come on!" I looked up at the ceiling begging for divine intervention. "I've been a good boy haven't I? I mean there's no one in bed with me. Please just let me get some sleep." I closed my eyes and turned over onto my stomach.   
  
There she was again, smiling and hula dancing, of all things. She can really shake her hips.   
  
"IT'S NOT FAIR!!" I got up and put some sweatpants and a shirt on. If I wasn't going to be able to get any sleep I might as well get some work done. Grabbing a padd full of armory schematics I trudged down to the mess hall and heat up the coffee dispenser.   
  
I was deep into my second pot, my mind in a nice, numbed state, because of my padds when I heard his voice.   
  
"I guess after making out in zero-g nothing else can compare, huh?"   
  
I surreptitiously looked around.   
  
No Hoshi in sight.   
  
Trip's radar must have gone screwy. And why the hell was he so damn cheerful at 3 a.m.?! was being denied Hoshi and he was cheerful!   
  
Something was horribly wrong with the universe.   
  
And why the hell was he slinking into my corner of it?   
  
I sighed. "Trip?" I glared at him, the cup of coffee trembling in my hand.   
  
"Yeah, Malcolm?" He said, grinning like a loon with a plate full of pie.   
  
"Run."   
  
"Run?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Because if you don't, they won't find your body."   
  
See Trip. See Trip go pale. See Trip run out of the mess hall.   
  
See Malcolm. See Malcolm smile malevolently. See Malcolm take images of a dead Trip back to his quarters. See Malcolm actually get some sleep.   
  
Sleep is good.   
  
*****   
  
Four hours of sleep, quite frankly, just wasn't enough. Add the two pots of coffee and I was yawning my way to the Bridge at 8 a.m. I managed to stagger into the turbolift and leaned against the wall closing my eyes. I felt the lift jerk slightly and move.   
  
It took me a moment to realize the turbolift had moved in the wrong direction. The doors opened and someone stepped on as I hid a yawn behind my hand.   
  
The doors closed, but instead of a smooth glide up or down, the tube dropped several feet before stopping abruptly, the lights cutting out and throwing the other occupant into me.   
  
As soon as I smelled her perfume I knew I was in trouble.   
  
"Morning, Hoshi," I said wrapping my arms around familiar curves and hunkering down the floor in case the lift went crazy again.   
  
It just couldn't be easy, could it? 


	17. Part XVII

Part XVII: Hoshi   
  
Look at me. Hickies-a-plenty with raccoon eyes to boot! This was all Malcolm's fault! Shit, no, did not just sound coy like a girlfriend or wife who's secretly pleased with the current state of events. DID NOT!   
  
All night long I had dreams of a certain armory officer demonstrating great expertise with his equipment. Note to self: cancel target practice indefinitely, or prepare to giggle ridiculously every time Malcolm or yourself handles a phase pistol. I don't think Malcolm would mind the cancellation, at that moment it was me-plague, him-un-vaccinated. Of course, there was the issue my shooting skills getting rusty...   
  
I know! I shall endeavor to go on only peaceful away missions, or just stand far away from Captain-shoot-me-Archer. One day there will be a rule, a directive of some kind, that won't allow the most important person on the ship go on away missions. For now, I would just have to settle for reminding him that he needs to re-record his in-case-of-death message every month and hope he gets the hint. T'Pol changes her message every week. Travis does it when he has free time...which is a lot. Hm, should consider making the same memo to Trip along with a picture of that moon Malcolm blew up. With an additional message, like, I don't know, 'just wait'? Or is that too clichéd?   
  
Was starting to have a good first hour into the new day when I belatedly realized the other person in the turbolift was an individual who should by all means be tired because he had been running around in my head since the night before. Although 'running' wasn't exactly the right way to put it. Let's just say it requires lots of stamina and leave it at that, okay? He had got no right to look so dashing in his crisp uniform when all I wanted to do was take it off...what what?! No, no, please let me start that sentence over.   
  
Too late.   
  
Someone must have been listening because the next thing I knew I was back in the arms of said 'should-be-naked' person. I suppose I should thank my lucky stars that he was not actually naked at that moment. A little mischievous voice that sounded a lot like a certain engineer replied, 'Oh, but the day is young.' Not for you, pal, not if I have anything to do with it, your days are going to end the moment I get out of this dark cursed turbolift...   
  
Whoa, hello!   
  
"Malcolm."   
  
Heavy sigh. "Yes?"   
  
"That's not my elbow."   
  
The man next to me sputtered.   
  
"That's okay," I comforted as I reached over to pat him on the arm. Honestly, if the good lieutenant wanted to cop a feel, who was I, the lowly ensign that I am, to refuse? Never let it be said that I'm not a good Starfleet officer.   
  
"Hoshi."   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"That's not my arm."   
  
Of course it's not. "I didn't realize you carried your phase pistol at all times, Malcolm."   
  
Growling. "I. Don't."   
  
"Oh." Hee.   
  
Static started coming over the lift comm until it cleared into a greeting of 'hellooooooo?' I'll give you three guess who's behind that comm.   
  
I heard Malcolm shift as he felt the wall for the comm unit. Finally, he snapped into it, "Trip, what the hell's going on?"   
  
"Oh, hey, Malcolm, yeah, we're having some trouble with the lift system. Some wires got crossed during the ion storm. You can't get out because you're stuck right at the intersection. Just sit tight and we'll have you out in...ohh, an hour."   
  
"An hour?!" I exclaimed, before I could clap my hand over my loud mouth. Oh no. I'd sealed my own fate. I was doomed.   
  
Pause on the other end of the comm, then a sly, "Malcolm...who's that I heard?"   
  
I could feel him glaring at me through the dark. If he'd had a phase pistol with him, I'd have been a dead woman. "Nobody!"   
  
"Really? Oh, the environmental systems are disconnected too, it's going to get nippy in there! And a new report just came in, huh, it's going to take four hours to get y'all out of there."   
  
I scrambled toward the comm. If I could only have reach through and strangled the man on the other side. "Charles Tucker the Third! If you don't get us out of here in an hour, I'll transport you into a bulkhead!"   
  
Uproarious laughing commenced for two minutes or so before he was able to get out, "Hey, Hoshi, how you doin'? Yeah, sure, no problem, I'll get on it right away, y'all just sit tight and do whatever it is y'all do to...pass...the...time..." More laughing until the comm cut out completely.   
  
I would NOT yank my hair out. My skull likes being covered. It has done nothing to me, I should not punish it. Trip, on the other hand... I turned toward the direction where I heard cracking knuckles. "Please tell me you plan to kill him painfully, slowly, and creatively."   
  
"It's such a great plan I'm going to have it published in Vengeance Weekly."   
  
"Good." Malcolm was going to take care of everything, I trusted him enough to make the crucial decisions, no matter how much I'd like to do it myself. Some people just do that whole maim and kill thing better. I understand completely. I leaned down and felt around for my coffee mug. If we were going to be stuck in here for a cold hour, or more, thanks to the rat bastard, I might as well settle down with a hot cup of java. I sipped carefully, letting the warmth cover me. I eyed the dark outline of the armory officer pacing in front of me.   
  
"Coffee?" I offered graciously.   
  
I imagined him looking in my direction, and then he took my coffee. See, this wasn't so bad. We were two civilized adults stuck in a turbolift and we had yet to jump each other. We rock!   
  
"Ugh, I've already had two different pots and it still tastes like feet."   
  
My lips twitched. "How would you know what feet taste like?"   
  
The emergency lights blinked on just in time for me to see his reaction. He opened his mouth. Struggled to speak, to explain, to refute the connotation, but his brain did not cooperate. He closed it. Then he said very slowly, carefully considering the words, "It tastes bad."   
  
"The feet?"   
  
"THE COFFEE!"   
  
"Oh." Very well, avoid the question, you taster of feet. This train of thought inevitably led me to stare at my boot encased foot, followed by the image of Malcolm worshiping my ankles with kisses while tickling my soles with his breath. In my imagination he slowly moved up to my calf, lifting my leg up while nibbling at the delicate skin beneath my knee...ohhhhh. Oh oh, was that moaning out loud?   
  
The turbolift answered by shaking wildly about and Malcolm, unbalanced for some reason that I probably shouldn't go into, fell against the wall. The top of my coffee mug took that chance to jump up and away, causing the steaming contents to spill out onto the hapless man holding it.   
  
"AHHHH!"   
  
"TAKE IT OFF!" I yelled, pulling at his jumpsuit. Hmm, great sense of deja vu, this urgent need to strip Malcolm. It just feel so right! Down came the zipper! Off came the undershirt! Kind of like tearing off the wrapping of a christmas present. And ohhh, I got just what I wanted...   
  
"Hoshi?" he said, his voice slightly hoarse.   
  
"Hmm?" Apparently I'd been a very good girl this year. The style! The color! The feel of him under my probing fingers! I bet he'd fit like a glove.   
  
"Could you please stop the moving?"   
  
The moving?   
  
"...of your hands--HANDS, HANDS!"   
  
Hands? I looked down at my own, and realized with sudden blinding clarity that they were a hair's breadth away from a certain place that I'd been very well acquainted with these past few days. I yanked my hands away, high and up, but his nose got in the way.   
  
"Bloody hell!" He jerked his head upward.   
  
"Oh my god, are you--" Panicked, I stepped in to get a better look. Apparently, that was one step too many because the next thing I know, his lips were on my lips, and they were doing a merry little homecoming dance. And his hands...I couldn't come up with a metaphor, with all the grinding and groping...and I call myself a linguist. I should be ashamed!   
  
"Can I just say something? I understand you guys being adventurous and all, but please not on top of the warp core. I really don't need that mental image."   
  
I looked up and saw Trip standing in the open threshold of the lift with his team behind him, gaping at us, jaws hanging open at the sight of me and Malcolm...having...or rather, trying to have our way with each other. Need I remind you that Malcolm was half-naked?   
  
I changed my mind. Malcolm was not going to handle this. There are some things you need to do yourself. Personally. With your own bare hands.   
  
***** 


	18. Park XVIII

*****  
  
Part XVIII: Malcolm  
  
The Captain was asking Hoshi something. With Porthos in his arms I was pretty sure what he was asking her.  
  
I can just see it now. One day we're going to come upon aliens who want to shoot us first and bitch later and I'm going to have to tell them, 'Look, chaps, can you hold that thought while I go and find our resident linguist? She's out pooper-scoopering the captain's dog.'   
  
I'm surprised she hasn't booted the man in the ass. I've seen her take down men bigger than her in class. Hell, she's taken me down once or twice.   
  
I'm inordinately proud of that.   
  
I turned to Em who was busily punching things into a padd. "Em?"   
  
"Yes, Boss?"   
  
"If we stuck Hoshi and Trip in a room-"   
  
"How long would it take her to rend him limb from limb?" Em punched a few more buttons. "Way ahead of you, Boss. I've got times ranging from two minutes to five minutes so far."   
  
"Put me down for one minute thirty seconds. Am I still in for transporter disintegration for Trip?"   
  
Em scrolled down on her padd. "Yeah. Travis has shuttle pod accident. Cutler has poisoned decon gel. T'Pol's got," Em snorted in amusement, "death after sex with an alien. Even the captain's in on it, he's got death via being stuffed in the warp core."   
  
I shouldn't ask but I was dying to know. "And Hoshi?"   
  
Em's eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise and she shot me a devious little smile. "I actually have her down for two ways."   
  
"Two?!"   
  
"Yes, phase pistol 'accident' or," Em chuckled, "decapitation."   
  
As amusing as that image was..."How?"   
  
"Katana, sir."   
  
Hoshi wielding a sword...God, is it hot in here? I tried to loosen my collar. "I knew about the bow and arrows but a katana?"   
  
"She has a lovely one in her quarters. One of her sisters sent it to her, I believe."   
  
She can kick ass, behead someone and kiss like a goddess. Damn, no wonder I find Hoshi attractive. "Oh my."   
  
"Oh yeah. It's no wonder Trip won't go down to the planet in the same shore leave party as either of you. If she doesn't kill him, chances are you will."   
  
Damn Trip. Damn him and his radar. Damn him, his radar, and the foresight to request being on the second leave group.   
  
"It would have been great, too. I had death by drowning and I know there's a lake near the landing site."   
  
"Sorry to disappoint you."   
  
"On the upside, Boss, your hotness factor has gone through the roof because of this."   
  
"MY WHAT?!" Hoshi and the captain looked in our direction and we pasted on bright smiles and tried to look innocent. "My what?!" I hissed at her when they turned away.   
  
Em wrinkled her nose prettily. "You have surpassed Trip and the captain in the hottie department. At first you were attractive but unapproachable. Several of the women on this ship have had fantasies of melting that cold exterior and-" She caught the deadly glare I was giving her and cleared her throat. "Ahem. Anyway, your recent um...'interactions' with Hoshi have painted you in a much different light." She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "My boss is a hottie. I'm so proud!" she said, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.   
  
"Oh dear God." I was so tempted to go hide in a torpedo casing. "Do I want to know?"   
  
"Can your blood pressure stand it?"   
  
"Maybe," I said, dread spreading through my body.   
  
She patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Well, you've pretty much destroyed your 'cold British bastard' rep. In its place there's a lovely 'he can't keep his hands off the woman he loves' rep forming. All the women think it's romantic."   
  
Yeah, just what I need a romantic reputation. "Great. Just great."   
  
"And then there's the poll," Em said, breezily tapping a few more buttons into her padd.   
  
"POLL?! WHAT POLL?!" The captain and Hoshi looked back at us and we shot them big smiles as I plotted how to kill Em without bad karma coming to revisit me.   
  
Maybe I could blame it on Trip. He's got some bad karma coming to him.   
  
"The T-shirt poll of course," Em said matter-of-factly.   
  
"T-shirt poll?"   
  
"Yes, sir." She scrolled down her padd until she found the appropriate passage. "'Pretend you have your very own Malcolm to dress up.' And it gave a choice of a white shirt, blue or gray shirt, red shirt or Decon! No shirt."   
  
I had to sit, my mind reeling with idea that waaay too many people were interested in what kind of shirt I wore, even if it was a bit of an ego boost. "And?"   
  
"Well, an overwhelming 54 percent said no shirt. White shirts came in at 36 percent. Blue or gray shirts got 9 percent and red shirts got zip." She looked me up and down. "I have to say I agree..." She chuckled as I opened my mouth. "I don't think red is a very good color on you, sir."   
  
My brain was starting to leak out of my ears. "Em, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to kill you now."   
  
"I don't think so, sir. I didn't do it. It popped up on the ship forums a few weeks ago."   
  
Breathe normally and plot against whomever started it, so that they can't trace the crime back to you. "Who then?"   
  
"It was anonymous, sir."   
  
If it hadn't been anonymous then it was now--Em would have seen to it before telling me. "Who?"   
  
"Nope."   
  
"Whooo?"   
  
"Not a chance."   
  
"Whooooo?" I asked in a singsong voice.   
  
"Abso-freakin-lutely not, sir. I like her. She's a good writer. You'd kill her."   
  
"And that would be bad?"   
  
"Yes, sir."   
  
"Damn."   
  
"Sorry, sir."   
  
"No, you're not."   
  
"You're right."   
  
"Brat."   
  
"Damn right. Aren't you glad I'm here to tell you these things?" She nudged me towards the shuttlepod. "Have fun, sir! Travis?!"   
  
"Yeah, Em?"   
  
"Make sure they don't get into any trouble down there!"   
  
"Will do!"   
  
I glared at Em as the door to the shuttlepod closed.  
  
FREEDOM!  
  
If it wouldn't have looked so damn weird, I would have fallen to my knees and kissed the ground. As it was, I was just happy to get off the shuttle and the bloody hell away from everyone. Here there were wide open spaces to lose myself in, safely hidden away from one engineer with his wacky radar, a ship full of places to neck, and a woman I can't seem to keep my lips off of.   
  
I wonder if it's the air?   
  
"Travis? Is there a nice secluded spot where I can be by myself and just...breathe?" I asked as my group stepped off the shuttle.   
  
Travis consulted his padd. "Yeah, there's a nice lake just over that way and it's got a bunch of trees and bushes around it. Should be pretty private. Got your lunch?"   
  
Chef had been nice enough to equip everyone with a small lunch for today's short shore leave. It would only be a day but everyone was eager to get off the ship and get some fresh air.   
  
See, there was that air thing again.   
  
I'd brought down a padd with a few letters, an armory schematic, and a Sherlock Holmes story--just a few hours of peace and quiet.   
  
And no Hoshi.   
  
I looked in my container. "Ham and cheese, fruit, water, potato salad." I nodded in appreciation. Chef made really good potato salad.   
  
"Yeah, everyone got a little something different. We're going to have a picnic in about two hours. Meet us at the shuttle pod if you want to join us."   
  
"Wonderful." The sound of the second shuttle had us looking at the sky. "Who's on the second shuttle?" Part of me was hoping Trip would be on there so I could drown him in the lake.   
  
"I think the captain asked Hoshi to bring Porthos, do--Malcolm!"   
  
"I'll see you later!" I yelled, running for the trees.   
  
I wasn't afraid.   
  
It's called a tactical retreat. 


	19. Part XIX

Part XIX: Hoshi  
  
I looked at the leash in my hand. It took everything, such as counting to ten in all the languages I knew--and that was really a lot--not to give it back to Captain Asshat and tell him where to shove it. Preferably where the sun doesn't shine.   
  
Communications Officer. Repeat after me. Communications Officer. Duties: Telling aliens not to shoot us, we bruise easily, stuff like that. Duties do not include: finding out people's favorite foods, getting said favorite food from a temperamental chief who was none too pleased about have to rush his creation--my miso soup has since then been, wait for it, too salty--and carrying the damn thing all the way down to the armory located on the other side of the ship. What is it about male bonding that has to be done over shiny guns and big torpedoes? Couldn't they bond over a nice plate of lasagna in the mess hall, next to the kitchen?   
  
Never mind, I probably don't want to know. Where was I? Oh, yes, and duties almost certainly do not include walking your damn quadruped, no matter how cute wittle Porthos is, yes he is, so cute...ahem.  
  
"Trip was going to do it, but somehow," Captain Archer paused dramatically, giving me the eye, "he said he'd rather be in the second shore leave group."  
  
Like it was my fault Trip didn't want to come down with our group...damn him for being wise enough to not be on the same planet as me. Had yet to cross off 'seek revenge on Trip' from my to-do list, although had checked off some rather risqué items I wrote down in fun--having done them with Lieutenant starch-in-my-pants Reed. Well, I'll have you know, he isn't all that stiff-upper-lipped when you prep him enough, and starch isn't the only interesting thing in his pants.   
  
Okay, WHY was I thinking about this? Must stop making crass, though truthful, comments in head. You are what you think, and I most certainly am not interested in Malcolm Reed's pants. I wear pants too and trust me, they're pretty uptight as far as clothing goes. Skirts on the other hand, are much more mellow.  
  
"Hoshi? Hoshi!"  
  
Hm. Had confused intrepid Captain with inner dialogue and the resulting strange facial expressions. Must assist before the Captain's head collapses.  
  
"Yes sir, I'll be happy to walk Porthos," I answered brightly. I hoped he was blinded by my sincerity.  
  
"Thank you, Hoshi, I knew--" The little boy smile. Damn it. He just tossed it out like cookies. The good kind, with frosting in the middle.  
  
"Save it, sir, for something more important." At least he managed to look abashed. "Something that had better not involve cake."  
  
And with a little exit flounce that would have made Ambassador Soval weep with envy, if Vulcans even have tear ducts that is, my little companion and I headed toward the park.  
  
Now I really can't blame Porthos for what happens next. He's just a dog, a happy little beagle. If I was a dog who hadn't seen another animal besides humans for some months, I'd have gone a little crazy when I spotted a fellow quadruped. I should have just paid more attention...and worn running shoes.  
  
There I was, strolling in the park, contemplating the meaning of my existence, when Porthos spotted an alien squirrel, right smack in the middle of our path. It might as well have been holding a placard that said 'chase me', it was that full of attitude.  
  
Well, attitude or no attitude, Porthos wasn't going to let it get away with it. It's just that, I would have liked a moment's notice before he went running off with me at the other end of the leash. That tiny cute cuddliness? Obviously a total facade, given that I was the one being yanked off my feet. Who was in control here?  
  
As I stumbled after him, hanging on for dear life, I realized that, like Captain Archer, I was the one on Porthos' leash, not the other way around.  
  
"PORTHOS!"  
  
The alien squirrel scrambled up a tree. A tree that was like any other tree in the park but for the man that was lounging under it. Guess who? No really, I insist. If you guessed wrong, I completely understand. I mean, really, isn't it some sort of statistical impossibility for the two of us to meet yet again under such circumstances?  
  
Statistics lie, apparently. Why was I not notified of this fact?  
  
Yes, it was Malcolm Reed, with a myriad of emotions flashing across his face. First, confusion. Poor guy, I woke him up from his nap. Something told me it was a sorely-needed nap given the recent...uh...events. Second, alarm. Little dog was rushing right at him, yanking a disheveledcommunications officer along at ramming speed. I'm sure he's just more accustomed to women approaching him at a slightly less frantic pace. Third, indecision. Either he could stay exactly where he was and act as my pincushion, or I was going smack right into the tree.  
  
Boy, after all I'd done for him, I figured he'd better stay where he was.  
  
He didn't move an inch. Sigh. I had got tears in my eyes, really.  
  
Tactical alert! All hands, brace for impact!  
  
Oof-mmm!  
  
Magnetic lips. That was the only way to explain it. Is there anyway we can polarize them like the hull plating so they kind of repel instead of attract? Or better yet, arm ourselves with those shield things everyone seems to have except us, because frankly, 'shields up' is always going to sound a lot better than the 'polarize the whatever'.  
  
All right, enough of that. Hands where I can see them and step away from the armory officer.  
  
Uh, no.  
  
Huh. It seemed that alien squirrels do climb up alien trees in the same circular pattern as earth squirrels. And in chasing that blasted vermin around the blasted tree, Porthos had effectively tied us around the tree with his leash in the few seconds it took us to recover from our lip lock. Lovely.  
  
"So..." I would have nonchalantly tapped my foot if I had been able to move it. Then again if I had been able to move my feet, I would have turned around and run like the devil himself was after me. The devil of lust, full of evil, bad lustiness that reduces formerly lustless communication officers into lusty hula dancers.   
  
"Ensign..." Oh how he tried. How we both tried. It wasn't really his fault that while our minds were demurely against doing the horizontal lambada for all them perfectly reasonable reasons, our bodies were saying, 'Let's shake and bake, people!'   
  
"...Nice weather we're having," he continued lamely, as if we weren't tied together on a tree, chest to chest, hip to hip. The weather?! I kept telling myself it was the effort that counts.   
  
And THEN it started to rain. That's right, boys and girls. Rain. Big fat drops of watery goodness. I'd just like to say for the record that I wasn't the one who jinxed us. That I wasn't the one who chose to comment on the otherwise glorious weather.  
  
Now let's recap. Not only were we still tied together, we were now wet. Again, for the record, my shore leave attire was perfectly respectable...when dry. At this point, it just looked like I got up that morning, rolled around in some red paint, and left the house looking like I had nothing on but paint. Cold paint.  
  
How is it that I was the one left out in the cold while Malcolm felt like he was a human heater? I leaned instinctively closer and inevitably observed a strange movement.  
  
"Malcolm."  
  
He opened his eyes and blinked incredulously at me as if he couldn't believe I was there, the way I was. "Yes?" he asked carefully, as if he wasn't sure I was real.  
  
"It's twitching."  
  
I've never seen a man's neck turn red so fast. That had to be a world record. "What...I...It..." he stuttered.  
  
"Your face is twitching."  
  
"ARRRGHHHHHHH!" He threw his hands up and all but said 'heaven help us'. "Porthos!" The captain's dog was standing right in front of us, wagging his tail, looking so smug that it made me wish I had given him some bad cheese. I was sure he thought it was amusing to tie two completely professional individuals up to see if sparks would fly. As if. I'd show him.  
  
Malcolm, in the meantime, went into his commando mode. He pointed at Porthos, index finger and all. "You. Turn around, run the other way, run now!"  
  
Tail. Still wagging.  
  
All right, no help from the dog. Malcolm turned to me. "You. Let's try to get the leash loose. It can't be tied on that tightly." What did he know? He wasn't the one with the ropes cutting into the circulation around his legs!   
  
"You sure?"  
  
He seemed to be on the verge of epilepsy. "Yes, of course I'm sure! Why the bloody hell not?!"  
  
"All right." I was only asking because...well, because...  
  
Malcolm's eyes went wide as I wiggled against the restraint... which unfortunately, involved wiggling against him. Wet wiggling.   
  
If I were a man, I'd have been totally turned on. Hell, I'm a woman and I was turned on at that moment. No, Hoshi, concentrate, must get ropes loose. Then jump the man.   
  
That's right. I'd given it a lot of thought in the ten seconds I was wiggling wetly against the armory officer. The moment we got out of this predicament, we were checking into a room and getting this out of our system. It was for the good of the people. Namely, Malcolm and me. Then maybe, just maybe, the powers that be would stop putting us in these ridiculous situations. I was through being the butt monkey of sadistic sex crazed power out there and I was sure Malcolm felt the same way. Although if I'd verbalized all these thoughts to him, I'd probably use more sophisticated words.  
  
Something like, "Let's shag, baby." What? He's English!  
  
YAHA! Success! Of course you couldn't tell from the way we were still pressed up against each other. In some remote corner of my mind I heard Porthos barking. It vaguely reminded me of something I was supposed to show him because of the way he so evilly tied us together... What was it? Restraint? Control? Professionalism?   
  
Oh whatever. He's just a dog. What does he care? I had more important things to do.  
  
"Malcolm...Let's--"  
  
"--shag, baby."  
  
We were SO not going to come out of our room that day. Or the next. Maybe even the day after.  
  
"Ahem." Hmm, that didn't sound like Malcolm. Or Porthos. The tree maybe? Squirrel? Damn it, damn it, it's the captain.  
  
There was that voice inside my head again. The one that's always saying, "Kill, kill, kill!" With a British accent? I used to think it was the devil but maybe I was telepathic and could read Malcolm's thoughts.  
  
"Captain," we said in unison. No, we didn't sound pissy at all.  
  
Captain Archer blinked at us. I thought he looked a bit scared there for a minute.   
  
"Trip said he just received a distress signal from a space station not far from here. I'm afraid we're going to cut shore leave short."  
  
"Of course," we replied. I gestured ahead. "After you, Captain."  
  
"Uh, yes, ahem." He set off slowly, and turned around intermittently as we made our way to the shuttlepod. He probably thought we were going to hurt him or something. Which was very insulting. We have rules to follow; we only do things in a professional, orderly manner.   
  
We'd have to get Trip before we could even begin on him. 


	20. Part XX

*****   
  
Part XX: Malcolm   
  
Must ignore the "Kill! Kill! Kill!" voice in head. Besides, how logical was that voice if it told me I needed to kill everyone. Maybe if it said something like "Kill! Kill! Everyone except Hoshi" I would be more inclined to agree. But the thing is, homicidal rages are pretty non discriminatory. Oh well, so much for following instincts and whatnot. I was going to have to settle for constructing Rube Goldberg-like schemes of revenge in my head. There must be a way I could just push a button and have anvils dropped on Trip or Captain Archer's head.   
  
You know when Enterprise left space dock I had this odd 'butterflies in my stomach' feeling. At the time I attributed it to the excitement of a new adventure and nervousness about serving under Archer.   
  
There I was in my nice clean uniform, desperately trying to close the lift doors as Trip sprinted down the corridor toward me. In that moment, I identified what that feeling had actually been: certain doom.   
  
It was something like what I suspect a deer feels when it's caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.   
  
Why the fuck wouldn't the door close?!   
  
"Thanks for holdin' the lift, buddy," Trip panted as he skidded to a stop.   
  
I looked down and saw that my finger was holding the 'Door Open' button.   
  
Well fuck me.   
  
I wondered if banging my head against the wall would feel as good as it did the last time. I contemplated the wall nearest me with longing.   
  
"You know, Malcolm..."   
  
Are you there, God?   
  
"I was thinking of asking Em out to dinner."   
  
It's me, Malcolm.   
  
"And I was wondering..."   
  
Since I can't get any help on the apparent Hoshi and Malcolm make-out fest down here...   
  
"Do you and Hoshi know any out-of-the-way spots?"   
  
Could you see fit to smite Trip and turn him into a pile of smoking ash?   
  
"I figure by now you two have found all the nooks and crannies where two people can be alone..." Trip trailed off with a sly smile as I looked at him in disbelief.   
  
You know, the wall was looking pretty damn good, especially if I could use his head as a battering ram.   
  
Before I could grab him, the lift doors parted, freeing me from this small circle of hell and letting me escape.   
  
"Oh come on, Malcolm. Give a friend a little help here," Trip begged as we walked to my station.   
  
"You're right," I said as Porthos bounded out from under my console. "I'll call Em and warn her that you're coming."   
  
Trip bent down to pick up the errant pup, shaking his head. "You're a cruel man, Malcolm Reed," he said, miming a shot to the heart. He staggered toward the captain's ready room, Porthos happily yipping and squirming after him, eager to find his master and a new stash of cheese.   
  
The door shut on the two of them and I sagged in relief. "That man's a damn bloodhound," I muttered, turning to my station when I realized something wasn't quite right on the bridge.   
  
I looked at my instrument panel, called down to the Armory to check in and warned Em about Trip, and then took a look around. Right away my eyes zeroed in on her station and the empty chair.   
  
I was not tempting Fate. Honestly! I wasn't. It's just that every morning that Hoshi and I work together on the Bridge I look over at her and check that everything's all right. She looks back at me and says 'good morning.' It's part of a normal everyday routine that makes me feel as if everything is okay in my small part of the galaxy.   
  
Who ever thought that a greeting meant that much?   
  
Not that making out in a turbolift is a bad way to start a morning, I thought, remembering the other day. Getting splashed with hot coffee? Yes. Getting caught by Trip and an engineering team? Yes. Rubbing up against a beautiful woman and kissing each other stupid? Hell no! Wish I could do that more often.   
  
I looked from her chair to the turbolift. I glanced at T'Pol, who was looking into one of her scanners then at Travis who was grinning at me like a loon.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Ask." The child knew me too well.   
  
"No."   
  
"Go on. Ask."   
  
I took a deep breath and tried to glare him in to submission. "No."   
  
"Sir, for you it's not morning until she says it is. So ask."   
  
My fingers drummed against my thigh for a few moments more before I caved. "Where?"   
  
"Ensign Sato was here for a few moments before you and Commander Tucker walked in," T'Pol said, looking over her shoulder. "But I don't know where she is now."   
  
"Porthos was running around like a maniac and she was trying to catch him. I turned my back on them for a second and she just vanished," added Travis. He looked like a child who'd found his Christmas presents early and figured out what they were.   
  
I leaned towards him. I didn't know why, it wasn't as if we'd be able to hold a whispered conversation with T'Pol and her Vulcan ears just a few feet away, but I lowered my voice nonetheless. "Then where is--" As if on cue, something lightly touched my knee. I paused in the middle of my question and looked down.   
  
Nothing there.   
  
I shook my leg just in case some odd form of space bug had decided to crawl up my pants and looked back at Travis, who was shaking with barely suppressed laughter. "Like I was saying, Ensign--" There it was again. I looked down and still saw nothing. Then I looked at Travis. "No."   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Oh, no." No, it couldn't be. Fate wouldn't screw with me that badly.   
  
"Ooooh, yes."   
  
Apparently Fate could, because when I looked back down I saw a slim feminine hand tapping its nails on the floor next to my shoe. She must have known I was looking because she suddenly made a rude gesture and pointed toward Travis' station. I looked back up at him with barely restrained glee. "She's going to kill you," I said, relishing the sight of Travis going pale under his dusky skin. "And I might just help her." I got a loving pat against my leg in response.   
  
"There wasn't enough time to get to her before you two showed up on the Bridge," Travis hissed by way of explanation. "Or else I would have done something. I don't think you would've wanted Trip to know she was under   
  
there."   
  
He had a point. The Hoshi Hand seemed to agree because it showed thumbs up. "She says you have a point," I told him before crouching down. Hoshi and I looked at one another for a moment. I opened my mouth.   
  
"I'm having a bad enough day. Shut up."   
  
I bit my lip for a moment to keep from laughing at this insane situation. Any other time this would have been a fantasy of mine, a beautiful woman hiding under my desk and waiting for just the right moment to pounce on me. Oh, if only the Bridge were empty and I could lock Trip and the captain in his ready room. When I had myself under control, I said, "Are you just hiding or are you stuck?"   
  
"I'm stuck," she growled.   
  
I looked at her kneeling under my desk, trying to figure out where she could possibly be caught. "Where?" Granted it's not too dark under there but black hair and a dark blue uniform tend to blend in a bit with the shadows.   
  
She growled again and reached forward, grabbing the front of my uniform and pulling me forward. Forced off balance, I fell forward onto my knees, my hands fumbling for purchase. My lips met hers in a kiss that deepened for a moment before I caught the edge of the desk and she squeaked in pain.   
  
"I don't bite, you know," I said, softly pulling back. "Not unless you ask."   
  
Damn the ship with all those dark hideaways, random closets, and now spaces under consoles that always seemed to have just enough room for two. Coincidence? I think not.   
  
"Get. Me. Out. Of. Here." Her 'command' voice. I liked that voice. I really liked that voice. Especially when she added that sexy growl to it. What the hell was I supposed to be doing?   
  
Oh, yeah, getting her out of there, preferably before the captain and Trip came out and started making pithy comments about the armory officer and communications officer making leaps and bounds in intra-ship communications. I got on my knees and leaned forward, finding the seam in my console where her   
  
hair--what shampoo does she use?--was caught and gently pulled it out. Which meant Hoshi ended up leaning forward with her head on my shoulder. For a moment we just sat there, every nerve in my body going into overload, wanting to drag her off to my quarters for several hot, passionate, steamy—   
  
"They're coming."   
  
God, I wish I was…Oh shit, she meant THEM! I flung myself off her and slid up against the wall while she shot out from under my console and sprinted across the bridge. I wondered if she did track at the academy...she had nice legs…   
  
"Malcolm? You all right?"   
  
I looked up at the captain and Trip, registering their concerned faces and the fact that Hoshi looked prim and proper at her station. "Um…Yes, sir. Just a little shock." That immediately sent both men into 'mother hen' mode, clucking over my dangerous console and poor me. I protested an order to visit Sickbay. I had an ache but it was nothing the doctor could help me with. I glanced over at Hoshi's station to see her silently chuckling over the entire thing. At least we weren't caught under the console. Maybe my luck was changing.   
  
***   
  
Luck is a psychotic bitch and she hates me.   
  
Crap, it was like every other first contact.   
  
Rescue aliens on a derelict station, blah blah blah, Captain invites random aliens a tour of the ship despite my protests, yada yada yada...   
  
DOES ANYBODY SEE A PATTERN?!   
  
Yeah, let's invite them all to a party in the mess hall. These female aliens with their big--What was that burning sensation at the back of my head? Phlox told me he fixed that! Oh, it was Hoshi. Gulp. In case you're wondering,   
  
yes, looks can kill, or at the very least, make an armory officer who has seen many terrible things, shake in his boots.   
  
Alien women with big boobs were prancing all over my ship, playing havoc with male officers' heads--big and little ones--and pissing off all the women on board.   
  
Want to know what was worse than that?   
  
A majority of them seemed to want me.   
  
Now, granted if this were any other time in my life, I would have been a slobbering, hormonal wreck over all the women throwing themselves at me. Dammit, a month ago I would have jumped over all of them.   
  
Now?   
  
Right now I had enough problems with one woman in my life. Hoshi stood near the punchbowl wearing a little red dress, completely pissed off at me, judging by the sweet, psychotic smiles she was giving me. The men, rejected by the alien women, seemed to be swarming around her and you know what? I'M GOING TO KILL THEM ALL IF THEY DON'T STOP LOOKING DOWN HER DRESS!!!   
  
I mean I was in charge of security, right? I could kill a few people…or at least make their deaths look like believable accidents.   
  
One of the alien women--what the hell was her name again? Bambi?--rubbed up against me and said something completely lost on me. Not that I was really paying attention anyway. Christ, why couldn't they all go after Trip? Damn woman magnet every other mission couldn't get one of them to look at him now? He usually has to beat them off with a stick! What the hell was wrong? Did he forget to bathe? Turn off his 'I'm a sexy engineering chief' beacon or something?! Bastard.   
  
I looked over at Hoshi again and added more names to my list of people to crush with anvils. Men bad. Men suck.   
  
***** 


	21. Part XXI

*****  
  
Part XXI: Hoshi  
  
Men suck. One day he's kissing you silly and whispering endearments to you in that gorgeous British accent, the next, he's a piece of space dust orbiting the gravitational pull of those women with big...everything! They were just a gigantic mosaic of men fetishes. I overheard Travis say something along the lines of staring into the sun, because they're...  
  
Just. That. Hot.   
  
His words, not mine, I swear. I'd have hit him but I was pretty sure I would hurt myself. He's a brick wall with teeth.  
  
My smile grew as I watched the men's advances get turned down one by one. Rejected! I think the average height of the Enterprise men was reduced by a foot...this made me inordinately happy, as I was getting neck cramps speaking to most of them. The humbling experience of rejection didn't stop them from staring down my dress, though. It was nice to know that certain constants never change, such as Hoshi in a Fire Engine Red Dress. And just this once, I let them stare, because of, you know, pity.  
  
Of course, all thoughts of other men scattered away once I saw why they were getting the heave-ho. Because the aliens were all attracted to one Malcolm Reed.  
  
...  
  
Okay!  
  
I wasn't mad. Nooo, not at all. In fact, this is my happy face. Look how white my teeth are! It was way different than my I-wish-you-would-shrivel-up-and-die face, which was reserved for people who abuse animals. Was once THIS close to using it on Captain Archer during one of his lengthier speeches that unfortunately involved a gerbil and an sea otter.   
  
It was one of those times when I envied T'Pol's stoicism. Wait, does she even know what a gerbil is? Does anyone else?! Note to self: Mention to Captain Archer that animal names do not translate well on the UT, aliens probably have no idea what he's saying.   
  
...Wait, is that a bad thing?   
  
Because if it is, I want to be bad.  
  
Mmmm, I want to be very bad. That's right, Torpedo Man, you're missing out on a whole lot of bad ass right here.  
  
Finally, he headed toward me, a gaggle of voluptuous women trailing after him. If he was coming over here to show off his new harem, he would soon be getting my foot up his tight British ass--not that I noticed those things, of course, but they are pretty firm. But, oh, yay! He looked completely miserable and pissed. Gooooood, he's so pretty when he's disgruntled, his blue eyes turn to ice and sends crackling chills down my happy thrill-seeking spine.  
  
"Hoshi."  
  
Ohhh, he said my name like it was water to a man lost in the desert. Thirsty, are we?  
  
"Malcolm," I replied huskily.  
  
Ha! I heard that whimper! Wooo! Do a little dance...make a little...well, not with two Barbies hanging off each of his arms. Hey, I was all for kinky but I wasn't sharing my English muffin, those nooks and crannies were mine. Not that I was saying he wasn't enough man for the all of us...it's just that, well, I was already too much woman for one of him. Obviously! He should be so lucky.  
  
And if he did want to get lucky, he'd better find a way to get rid of those attachments on his arms.  
  
"Hello, my name is Ba'm Be," said the thing hanging off Malcolm's left arm.  
  
Of course it was.  
  
"And my name is La'ana," said the other thing with a death grip on Malcolm's right arm.   
  
Okay, this one needed to die. She was smothering him and cutting off his circulation! Only I have the right to do that!  
  
"My name is Hoshi," I returned acidly, "I see you've met MY Lieutenant Reed."  
  
La'ana's eyes flashed and I swore I could hear the pitter patter of feet gathering closer at the promise of a cat fight. Well, so much for keeping things under wraps. Not that it was under wraps to begin with, since there were betting pools and a poll. It'd be awfully heartless of me to deprive my crewmates of entertainment. Besides, I had good odds on one of those things. It paid to be in the inside. Heh.  
  
Didn't think it was possible, but La'ana leaned in even closer to Malcolm. "Yes, we are getting very well acquainted, aren't we, Malcolm?" she purred.  
  
Malcolm's eyes pin-balled back and forth, blinking blankly like we were speaking in cow. Oh God, not the animals, Captain Archer's contagious!   
  
Suddenly, Malcolm jumped and yelped. He glared incredulously at La'ana.  
  
Oh no, she didn't! She did not just pinch the goods.  
  
"Ma'am, please!"  
  
Ha, he called her 'ma'am', and not in a I'm-a-hot-officer-here-to-charm-your-socks-off kind of way, but a I-don't-know-you-please-don't-touch-me kind of way.  
  
La'ana needed to get her ears checked because she answered with, "Oh, I definitely aim to please."  
  
Bitch, are you for real?! What part of the 'ma'am' didn't you get?! Breathe, breathe. Smile, smile.  
  
"Malcolm, may I speak to you, in private?"  
  
His face lit up like the weapons console during tactical alert. It was almost too easy.  
  
"But you promised us a tour of your ship!" La'Ana said in that annoyingly whispery voice of hers.  
  
"I did?" he stuttered.  
  
His entourage agreed fervently, almost too fervently as many things started bouncing. You could almost hear the men's jaws dropping.  
  
My smile got bigger and Malcolm got paler.  
  
"Lieutenant."  
  
Hey, where did T'Pol come from? Bit of a sidler, she was...  
  
"Do you remember the time you shot me during a hostage situation?"  
  
Huh? Brain does not compute. The-wha?  
  
"Pardon?" Malcolm was similarly befuddled.  
  
T'Pol extended her hand to Malcolm's shoulder. "You do not look well."  
  
The next thing I knew, Malcolm collapsed into my chest. For a man obsessed with bums, he's sure got a thing for my boobs.  
  
"Ensign, I believe we should escort Lieutenant Reed to sickbay," she said to me, and to the women, she added, "You must excuse us, his ailment could be contagious."  
  
Moses and his Red Sea would be jealous. Really, they just went 'whoosh!' as we carried an unconscious Malcolm out of the Messhall. Loved T'Pol. She was so stoic, and clever, and well, the ears, they're so pretty! Why wasn't I a lesbian? Or bisexual? Heck, if the Malcolm thing didn't work out, I might look into that.  
  
Halfway to sickbay, T'Pol came to a sudden halt.   
  
"Ensign, I believe it is unwise to leave the captain and the commander alone with the alien visitors."  
  
Wiser words have never been said. "Of course." But an unconscious Malcolm was a wee bit heavy, and I didn't have Vulcan strength. I implored T'Pol with my deep dark chocolate brown eyes.   
  
You can't abandon me, I was thinking about changing my sexual orientation for you!  
  
"Mr. Reed will awaken with a bit of stimulation," she advised, deadpan. And with that piece of information she dumped him on the closest wall and walked away.  
  
So, did she want me to stimulate him right here in the hallway? I mean, sure, we hadn't tried the hallway before but... Wait, this hallway looked familiar. So did the door. Hey! It was my door!  
  
Loooooove T'Pol. Was definitely going to work on being bisexual.  
  
Oh my beautiful quarters! With this gorgeous classic set of door and lock...even the stars are going the right way! Not to mention the hunk of a man on my bed. What did I ever do to deserve this? Oh yes, there was that several weeks of unresolved sexual tension to speak of...I deserved a resolution, damn it!  
  
Wow, someone was having a very naughty dream from the looks of things.  
  
"Mmmm..."   
  
Mmmm, indeed. So, Malcolm talked in his sleep, did he?  
  
"God, you feel so good..."  
  
Oh please! Oh please! Don't say the name of one of your ex-girlfriends or...your mother...or for that matter any of the female relatives you have. Once I had this guy sleep over and sometime in the middle of the night he started calling out for his Aunt Nellie. I wasn't one to judge but he obviously had some issues to resolve. I don't mind issues per se, I've got several myself, but I really didn't want to go there.  
  
"...you're perfect..."   
  
I held my breath, I had a feeling. Here it was!  
  
"...beautiful..."   
  
Whatever, get ON with it!  
  
"...Hoshi..." he murmured with a gentle sigh.  
  
Happy! This was me, melting into a puddle of boneless, yucky, sappy goo. Sigh. This one was a keeper.  
  
"..."  
  
What? What?! Did he just say what I think he said?!  
  
"Did you say what, Malcolm?" I asked softly, though I was so excited I couldn't speak straight.  
  
He shied away, blushing in his sleep. Damn it, stop being so cute, tell me what you just said! Don't make me wake you!  
  
"You heard me already..."  
  
Cheapskate! I flopped down next to him, bemoaning the words I thought I'd heard.  
  
Then he snuggled closer, seeking me out. I stopped breathing, and waited for him to speak again. But with his head buried in the crook of my neck, I heard his breathing even out again. Bastard! Tease! Of all the ner--  
  
"I'll love you for-bloody-ever..."  
  
Thud. Help, I've fallen and I can't get up. All right, forget the bisexual thing, I had a feeling that I was going to be perfectly content being a Malsexual.  
  
I climbed on top of him, sitting astride before leaning down and putting my lips on his. How was that for stimulation, eh? More? Sure, why not? There was plenty where that came from. Ah, I could see he was already familiar with the hula hip grind.  
  
Within the next few seconds, the sleeping hunk woke up. He blinked several times at me, otherwise unmoving. I admired his restraint since it was obvious that he was heavily stimulated. Meeeeow!  
  
Finally, he asked incredulously, "Are we on a bed?"  
  
"Uh-huh." I grinned at him.  
  
"In..." he paused and looked about, "...your quarters?"  
  
"Your observation skills are astounding," I teased. I was so cute!  
  
He carefully ran his hands up my bare arms before coming to rest on my jaw, his eyes inscrutably blue.   
  
"Pinch me."  
  
I playfully raised an eyebrow at him.   
  
"Where?"  
  
His lips curved into a slow and delicious smirk.   
  
"Surprise me."  
  
***** 


	22. Part XXII

Part XXII: Malcolm  
  
One night I woke up in a cold sweat and Hoshi asked me what was wrong. I had dreamed of another case of Tucker Interruptis and Archer the Badger, with guests, starring the Mischievous Mayweather and Kinky Phlox. I only woke up after T'Pol showed up, quite out of the blue, and drop-kicked me upside the head!  
  
She laughed. And laughed. And laughed.  
  
I wasn't quite sure what was more traumatizing, that bizarre dream or the fact that the love of my life could laugh at me for ten minutes straight. But what of vengeance? Surely it was the reason for the dreams!   
  
Hoshi told me she had it covered.  
  
To this day, she still won't tell me where she found the anvils.  
  
The End.  
  
*****  
  
Thanks for all the feedback, hope you had a good time with the wacky duo that is Hoshi and Malcolm. They're fun to torture, you should definitely try it sometime.  
  
A special thanks to Mara for being the awesome beta goddess that she is, and for the folks over at www.lingdata.net for being so patient. :-D Why yes, that is a shameless plug... 


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